I 

California 

gional 

nlity 


SCREEN  ACTING 


COPYBICHT,  1921 

PHOTO-STAR  PUBLISHING  CO. 
Los  ANGELES,  CALIFORNIA 


The  Author  and  Daughter  Mary 


SCREEN  ACTING 

BY 

MAE  MARSH 

OF 

"THE  BIRTH  OF  A  NATION,"  "INTOLERANCE,"  "POLLY  OF  THE 
CIRCUS,"  "THE  CINDERELLA  MAN,"  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED 


LOS  ANGELES,  CALIFORNIA 
PHOTO-STAR  PUBLISHING  CO. 

CHAMBER  OF  COMMERCE  BUILDING 
All  Rights  Reserved 


FOREWORD 

IN  her  travels  and  through  her  amazing — 
to  put  it  mildly — correspondence,  the  mo- 
tion picture  star  finds  that  there  is  every- 
where a  great  curiosity  about  screen  acting. 

What  does  it  require?  What,  if  any,  are  its 
mysteries?  What  system  of  detail  is  there 
that  permits  fifty-two  hundred  feet  of  celluloid 
ribbon  to  spin  smoothly  past  the  eye  to  make 
an  interesting  story  ? 

I  look  upon  this  book  as  an  answer  to  the 
thousands  of  letters  I  have  received  in  the  past 
several  years  asking  as  many  thousands  of 
questions.  A  motion  picture  star's  most  inti- 
mate audience,  after  all,  is  her  correspondence. 

There  comes  to  her  sometimes  the  vague  re- 
alization that  in  a  dozen  different  countries 
little  children,  their  sisters,  their  brothers  and 
their  parents  may  be,  at  one  moment,  viewing 
her  image  upon  the  screen  in  a  dozen  different 
plays.  It  is  all  too  stupendous ;  too  impersonal. 
But.  though  she  cannot  be  a  breathing  part  of 
these  audiences  she  learns  often  what  is  in  the 
hearts  of  many.  This  message  comes  through 
the  mails;  that  is  her  broad  point  of  contact 
with  her  international  public. 

IX 


Five  years  ago  these  letters  were  largely  to 
request  photographs  and  the  star  could  tell 
something  of  her  popularity  by  the  number  of 
pictures  mailed  out.  But,  as  the  screen  has 
grown  in  importance  and  merit,  the  star's  cor- 
respondence has  indicated  a  lively  curiosity  in 
the  art  of  camera-acting.  So  much  ambition ; 
so  many  questions ! 

I  have  often  thought  that  to  make  a  satis- 
factory reply  to  the  thousands  of  questions  I 
have  been  asked  would  be  to  write  a  book,  and 
— well,  I  wrote  it.  I  have  tried  to  outline  the 
important  steps  in  the  building  of  a  screen 
career.  In  doing  this  I  have  evaded  technical 
phraseology.  It  is  not  indispensable  to  a 
knowledge  of  screen  technic  and  might  tend  to 
confuse. 

I  believe  that  anyone  desiring  a  career  in 
motion  pictures  can  profit  by  that  which  I  have 
written  out  of  my  experience;  that  others  can 
learn  from  it  something  of  the  work-a-day  life 
of  the  screen  actress. 

In  conclusion  I  would  take  this  opportunity 
to  thank  the  tremendous  number  of  children 
and  grown-ups  who  have  at  one  time  or  an- 
other written  me.  They  serve  always  to  re- 
mind me  that  those  of  us  upon  the  screen  have 
an  influence  and  responsibility  that  go  beyond 
a  mere  make-believe. 

MAE  MARSH. 


Contents 

Chapter  Page 

I.     The  Universal  Impulse 15 

II.     Stars  and  Meteors 23 

III.  Seven  Qualities 33 

IV.  Beauty  and  Expression 43 

V.     Story,  Make-up,  Costuming 51 

VI.     Noses,  Chins  and  Eyes 61 

VII.     Camera-Consciousness  and  Such 73 

VIII.     Emphasis  and  Repression 81 

IX.  Long  Shots,  Intermediates  and  Close-ups.  .  91 

X.     About  Atmosphere 101 

XL     Mr.  Griffith 109 

XII.  Home  Life  of  the  Star..                             ,  .121 


XI 


Illustrations 

Page 
The  Author  and  Mary Frontispiece 

Lillian  Gish  and  the  late  Robert  Harron 27 

Charles  Ray 37 

Mary  Miles  Minter 47 

Mary  Pickford 55 

Madame  Nazimova 65 

Blanche  Sweet  and  Wallace  Reid 77 

Norma  Talmadge 85 

The  Author  and  Some  Beginners 95 

Gloria  Swanson  and  Thomas  Meighan 105 

Mr.  Griffith 113 

The  Author  at  Home . .  . .  125 


JUII 


MAE   MARSH,   MOTION   PICTURE   ACTRESS 


'T'HE  arts  are  old,  old  as  the  stones 

From  which  man  carved  the  sphinx  austere. 
Deep  are  the  days  the  old  arts  bring: 
Ten  thousand  years  of  yesteryear. 

II 

C//£  is  madonna  in  an  art 

As  wild  and  young  as  her  sweet  eyes: 
A  frail  dew  flower  from  this  hot  lamp 
That  is  today's  divine  surprise. 

Despite  raw  lights  and  gloating  mobs 
She  is  not  seared:  a  picture  still: 

Rare  silk  the  fine  director's  hand 
May  weave  for  magic  if  he  will. 

When  ancient  films  have  crumbled  like 

Papyrus  rolls  of  Egypt's  day, 
Let  the  dust  speak:  "Her  pride  was  high, 

All  but  the  artist  hid  away: 

"Kin  to  the  myriad  artist  clan 

Since  time  began,  whose  work  is  dear." 
The  deep  new  ages  come  with  her, 
Tomorrow's  years  of  yesteryear. 

— Nicholas  Vachel  Lindsay. 

From  "THE  CHINESE  NIGHTINGALE 
and  other  Poems"  by  Vachel  Lindsay. 
Published  by  The  MacMillan  Company. 


XIV 


CHAPTER  I 

The  dilemma  of  a  casting  director — A  Hood  of  letters 
and  their  four  objectives — What  every- 
one wants  to  know. 

WHEN  MR.  ADOLPH  KLAUBER,  former  dra- 
matic critic  of  the  New  York  Times,  was  cast- 
ing director  for  a  big  picture  corporation  I 
chanced  to  meet  him  one  day  in  the  Fort  Lee 
Studios. 

"Read  this,"  he  said,  tendering  me  a  letter. 

It  was  from  a  young  girl  in  Columbus,  Ohio, 
as  I  remember,  who  wanted  to  know  how  she 
could  get  into  motion  pictures.  It  was  not  so 
much  the  letter  as  a  small  snap-shot  photo- 
graph of  herself  which  she  had  pinned  to  her 
missive  that  took  my  attention. 

The  picture  showed  a  girl  in  a  sitting  posi- 
tion, who  was  plump  to  the  verge  of  fatness. 
She  had  thick  legs  and  ankles,  straight  hair, 
probably  brown,  and  dark  eyes.  So  far  as  a 
front  view  divulged  her  features  were  fairly 
regular.  It  was  not  in  any  way  a  remarkable 
picture.  Nor  did  it  promise  any  particular 
animation  in  its  subject. 

15 


16  —    SCREEN    ACTING    — 

She  had  written  to  ascertain  "what  chance 
she  would  have  in  motion  pictures." 

"What  are  you  going  to  answer?"  I  asked 
of  Mr.  Klauber. 

"That's  a  poser,"  he  replied.  "I  was  about 
to  write  her  that  she  didn't  have  any  chance; 
that  she  probably  would  be  happier  if  she  re- 
mained home;  certainly  so  until  she  obtained 
her  parents'  consent  for  plans  of  a  career. 
Looking  at  the  picture  I  should  say  she  had 
one  chance  in  a  million." 

"That  is  probably  true,"  I  said. 

"But  do  you  know,"  continued  Mr.  Klauber, 
"that  the  more  I  think  of  it  the  less  I  believe 
that  I  am  endowed  with  authority  to  tell  any- 
one that  he  or  she  has  no  chance  in  motion 
pictures.  How  can  I  know?  We  see  about 
us  every  day  celebrated  stars  who,  perhaps, 
began  their  career  with  apparently  no  more 
chance  than  this  little  Columbus  girl." 

Mr.  Klauber  paused. 

"For  that  reason  I  have  not  sent  the  dis- 
couraging letter  which  it  was  on  the  tip  of  my 
pen  to  write,"  he  continued.  "Instead  I  am 
going  to  send  her  a  letter  telling  her  that  her 
chance  of  screen  success  is  altogether  proble- 
matical ;  that  everything  depends  upon  circum- 
stance, hard  work  and  the  native  talent  that 
is  developed  before  the  camera." 

"I  should  like  to  see  a  copy  of  that  letter," 
I  said. 


—    SCREEN    ACTING    —  17 

I  never  happened  to  see  Mr.  Klauber's  reply 
to  the  girl  in  Columbus.  But  I  am  sure  it  was 
interesting. 

In  the  past  eight  years  I  have  received  hun- 
dreds of  thousands  of  letters  from  motion  pic- 
ture fans  in  every  part  of  the  world.  In  an- 
swer now  to  a  question  I  have  often  heard 
asked,  "Does  a  motion  picture  star  immediately 
read  all  her  mail?"  I  can  say  for  myself, 
"Bless  you,  no." 

A  single  mail  has  brought  as  many  as  a  thou- 
sand letters  and  I  shall  leave  it  to  the  reader 
to  determine  how  one  could  possibly  read  one 
thousand  letters  and  arrive  at  the  studio  at 
8:30  o'clock.  Personally,  my  secretaries  are 
instructed  to  attend  to  such  fan  letters  as  re- 
quest a  reply — which  practically  all  of  them  do 
— and  then  preserve  the  letters  that  I  may  read 
them  in  leisure  moments. 

In  that  way  I  have  managed  I  think  to  per- 
use at  one  time  or  another  the  majority  of  the 
letters  that  come  to  me.  I  find  the  reading  of 
them  a  great  pleasure. 

It  is  nice  to  receive  pleasant  compliments  on 
one's  hard  and  honest  effort  to  do  something 
worth  while.  I  have  on  many  occasions  found 
helpful  criticism  in  my  mail.  Almost  anyone 
can  dismiss  a  picture  with  a  "I  liked  it"  or  "I 
didn't  like  it."  There  is  the  exceptional  one 
in  a  thousand  who  will  tell  you  he  didn't  like 
it  and  why,  placing  his  finger  upon  a  real  de- 
fect. Often  that  is  a  help. 


18  —    SCREEN    ACTING    — 

To  get  back  to  my  point :  The  letters  I  re- 
ceive seem  to  be  written  with  one,  and  some- 
times all  of  the  following  objectives — 

1.  To  request  a  photograph. 

2.  To  request  an  autographed  photograph. 

3.  To  ask  for  "old  clothes." 

4.  To  find  out  how  "I  can  learn  to  act  for 
motion  pictures." 

As  for  Numbers  1  and  2,  the  many  of  you 
who  are  making  a  "collection"  know  that  a  pic- 
ture, autographed  if  requested,  is  sent  you  in 
due  time.  Up  to  very  recently  the  star  has 
considered  it  a  matter  of  good  advertising  to 
remember  those  friends  who  are  kind  enough 
to  ask  for  photographs.  But  the  demand  for 
pictures  has  become  so  tremendous  that  some 
of  the  stars  are  now  making  a  flat  charge  of 
twenty-five  cents  for  their  photographs.  This 
barely  covers  the  cost  of  production  and  post- 
age. 

It  was  Miss  Billie  Burke,  I  believe,  who  was 
first  to  establish  a  cost  charge  on  her  photo- 
graphs. She  did  this  during  the  war  and 
donated  the  receipts  to  charity. 

The  most  of  us  have  feared  to  risk  offending 
those  picture  fans  who  have  been  at  the  pains 
of  writing  us  by  asking  them  for  a  photo- 
graphic fee.  We  have  spent  from  $10,000  to 
$25,000  a  year  out  of  our  own  pockets — unless 
by  our  contracts  our  producers  agreed  to  bear 
this  expense — and  have  trusted  that  it  was 
money  well  expended.  In  the  amount  of  pleas- 


—    SCREEN    ACTING    —  19 

ure  brought  to  the  little  ones  I,  for  one,  am 
sure  it  has  been. 

But,  as  the  demand  for  pictures  grows 
greater  and  letters  pour  in  from  all  parts  of 
the  world,  the  cost  of  materials  has  been  stead- 
ily climbing.  In  1915  I  could  send  out  three 
photographs  for  what  it  now  costs  to  send  one. 
That  means  something  when  thousands  of 
photo-mailers  each  month  are  being  sent  to  a 
dozen  different  countries. 

Recently  a  well  known  star,  a  particular 
friend  of  mine,  declared  that  it  was  but  a  mat- 
ter of  months  before  all  the  more  popular  stars 
would  institute  a  photographic  fee. 

As  to  Number  3,  regarding  old  clothes,  I  am 
sure  that  while  the  requests  emanate  from 
worthy  sources  no  star  could  possibly  satisfy 
these  many  supplications. 

To  begin  with  if  the  story  calls  for  clothes 
that  are  actually  old — old  enough  to  be  consid- 
ered "costumes" — they  are  usually  supplied  by 
the  producer  and  belong  to  him  after  produc- 
tion. In  the  case  of  modern  clothes — meaning 
new  ones — most  stars  are  very  pleased  to  wear 
them  themselves  when  they  have  finished  be- 
fore the  camera. 

Such  is  mine  own  case.  Whenever  there  is 
any  danger  of  my  reaching  a  point  of  clothes 
saturation  I  have  several  growing  sisters  who, 
so  far,  have  been  able  to  handle  the  situation. 
After  that  our  clothes  go  through  certain  pre- 
arranged channels  of  charity. 


20  —    SCREEN    ACTING 

I  make  this  point  in  the  hope  that  many 
young  ladies  who  have  written  me  for  my  "old 
clothes"  will  understand  that  I  have  few  or 
none,  as  much  as  I  should  like  to  accommodate 
each  one  of  them. 

Which  brings  me  to  Number  4. 

"How  can  I  learn  to  act  for  motion  pic- 
tures?" Six  years  ago  in  "The  Birth  of  a 
Nation"  days  my  mail  brought  me  many  such 
inquiries.  Since  then,  with  the  motion  pic- 
ture steadily  gaining  in  favor,  I  have  been 
swamped  with  this  universal  request. 

"Do  brown  eyes  photograph  better  than 
blue?"  "Is  it  necessary  to  have  stage  training 
to  act  before  a  camera?"  "Can  a  girl  with  a 
big  nose  succeed  in  the  movies?"  "What  is 
the  accepted  height  for  a  motion  picture  star  ?" 
"Are  the  morals  of  motion  pictures  safe  for 
the  average  girl?"  "If  I  came  to  Hollywood 
and  got  work  as  an  extra  how  long  would  it 
be  before  I  am  featured?"  "Do  you  know  any 
director  who  will  star  a  small  girl,  of  blond 
type,  who  has  played  parts  in  high  school  come- 
dies?" "Are  the  star  salaries  we  hear  of  the 
real  thing?"  "Does  Charlie  Chaplin  make 
$1,000,000  a  year?" 

I  have  picked  at  random  these  few  questions. 
I  think  I  could  go  on  and  on,  farther  than  Mr. 
Tennyson's  charming  brook,  with  others  of  the 
same  kind.  Sometimes  I  am  given  to  the 
thought  that  every  young  girl  in  the  United 
States  wants  to  go  into  motion  pictures. 


—    SCREEN    ACTING    —  21 

Possibly  I  am  right.  You  know  as  well  as  I. 
Receiving  so  many  of  these  letters  I  have  be- 
gun to  feel  as  Mr.  Klauber  felt.  I  don't  know 
exactly  what  to  say. 

But  since  there  are  undoubtedly  many  thou- 
sands of  boys  and  girls  not  only  in  the  United 
States  but  in  foreign  countries — the  Japanese 
boy,  for  instance,  is  particularly  keen  on  know- 
ing the  how  of  motion  picture  acting — who 
would  like  to  get  into  motion  pictures,  I  feel 
that  such  information  as  I  have  acquired 
through  a  wide  experience  will  interest  many 
and  perhaps  prove  of  value  to  those  others 
who  are  destined  to  be  our  cinema  stars  of 
tomorrow. 

As  for  my  qualifications  I  was  about  to  say 
that  I  am  one  of  the  motion  picture  pioneers. 
Yet  when  I  say  pioneer  I  think  of  Daniel 
Boone.  And  Mr.  Boone,  had  he  lived,  would 
have  been  an  old,  old  man. 


CHAPTER  II 

The  myth  of  the  "overnight"  star — An  instance  of 

success  after  long  sustained  effort — 

What  the  beginner  faces. 

To  BECOME  an  artistic  success  one  must  as- 
suredly be  in  love  with  the  art  he  has  elected 
to  follow.  In  business  or  finance  a  so-called 
lucky  stroke  may  make  of  a  man  or  a  woman 
a  success  without  there  being  those  qualities 
of  esteem  and  enthusiasm  for  the  thing  itself 
that  are  so  essential  to  artistic  endeavor. 

Such  lucky  strokes  are  rare  in  pictures.  Ap- 
pearances to  the  contrary,  notwithstanding, 
motion  picture  stars  are  not  made  over-night. 
Every  now  and  then  some  actor  or  actress  be- 
gins to  assert  his  or  her  right  to  cinema  star- 
dom. But  if  one  will  take  the  trouble  to  ex- 
amine the  records  in  such  cases  he  will  usually 
find  that  the  privilege  of  stardom  has  come 
only  after  a  slow  climb. 

There  have  been  cases  where  producers  have 
tried  to  "manufacture"  stars.  But,  in  the 
main,  it  hasn't  worked. 

23 


24  —    SCREEN    ACTING 

To  recall  one  example :  One  of  the  shrewd- 
est of  our  producers  not  long  ago  signed  a 
young,  beautiful  and  talented  vaudeville  act- 
ress to  a  long  time  motion  picture  contract. 
Screen  tests  proved  that  she  photographed 
beautifully.  She  had  the  grace  of  carriage  to 
be  expected  of  the  professional  dancer.  Her 
face  was  expressive.  That  a  capable  director 
would  find  in  her  all  the  qualities  necessary 
for  stardom  the  producer  never  doubted. 

Thousands  of  dollars  were  spent  in  an  ocean 
of  advertising  ink  announcing  the  debut  of  this 
star.  Her  name  was  flashed  from  one  end  of 
the  country  to  the  other,  indeed,  around  the 
world,  in  electric  lights  and  on  bill  boards. 
Her  photograph  was  published  in  the  metro- 
politan dailies  and  small  town  papers.  So  far 
as  the  campaign  was  concerned  it  was  an  un- 
qualified success.  By  the  time  the  little  star's 
first  picture  was  ready  for  release  there  had 
been  built  up  about  her  a  tremendous  curiosity. 

I  own  I  was  as  curious  as  the  next.  I  think 
the  majority  of  us,  who  had  attained  stardom 
only  after  years  of  rigorous  training,  self 
denial  and  hard  work,  were  interested,  even 
anxious,  to  know  if  motion  picture  stars  could 
be  developed  after  the  formula  of  this  pro- 
ducer. It  meant  something  to  us. 

If  the  magnitude  of  the  motion  picture  act- 
ress was  to  be  in  proportion  to  the  size  of  an 
introductory  advertising  campaign  then  our 
own  position  was  none  too  secure. 


—    SCREEN    ACTING  25 

As  a  star  this  little  actress  failed.  Thanks 
to  some  natural  talent  her  failure  was  not  so 
disastrous  as  it  might  have  been.  But  as  a 
star,  she  was  soon  withdrawn.  The  fortune 
spent  in  exploiting  her  was  gone,  but  not  for- 
gotten. As  a  proof  of  the  impossibility  of 
"manufacturing"  stars  under  the  most  favor- 
able of  circumstances  it  probably  served  a  pur- 
pose. 

Why  did  she  fail  ?  Why  would  a  baby,  who 
had  never  walked,  fail  if  she  were  told  to  run 
a  foot  race  ?  She  simply  didn't  know  how. 

All  the  little  important  things  that  one  can 
learn  by  nothing  save  experience,  things  which 
mean  everything  to  successful  screen  acting, 
were  missing  in  her  work.  She  was  like  one 
trying  to  paint  without  knowing  color,  to  com- 
pose without  a  knowledge  of  counter-point,  to 
write  without  having  learned  grammar  school 
English.  Contrary  to  a  tradition  which  exists 
in  some  localities  the  best  swimmers  are  not 
developed  by  throwing  the  child  into  the  water 
and  telling  him  to  sink  or  float. 

There  is  another  interesting  point  in  the  case 
which  I  have  cited.  When  the  plans  to  make 
this  young  lady  an  over-night  star  failed  she 
became  a  featured  player  in  a  group.  Sur- 
rounded by  experienced,  capable  screen  actors 
and  relieved  of  the  responsibility  that  stardom 
entails  she  has  developed  splendidly  and  is,  in 
point  of  fact,  a  better  actress  today  than  she 
was  when  she  was.  advertised  as  a  star. 


26  —    SCREEN    ACTING    — 

It  has  been  simply  a  matter  of  training.  If 
sometime  in  the  future  she  is  again  starred  she 
will  be  prepared  to  make  a  better  job  of  it. 

I  have  brought  up  this  case  because  it  has 
been  my  observation  that  there  exists  a  feeling 
that  in  motion  pictures  anybody  can  be  a  star 
anytime.  There  is  talk  of  influence,  mana- 
gerial favoritism,  luck  and,  goodness  knows, 
what  not?  There  may  be  truth  to  some  of 
these  assertions. 

But  the  year  in  and  year  out  stars — Mary 
Pickford,  Dorothy  and  Lillian  Gish,  William 
Hart,  Mine.  Nazimova,  Douglas  Fairbanks, 
Charles  Ray  ,etc. — are  those  who  stand  solidly 
on  the  ground  of  genuine  merit. 

And  the  solidity  of  their  stance  is  usually 
determined  by  the  amount  of  their  natural  tal- 
ent, plus  the  excellence  and  length  of  their 
training. 

I  believe  many  people  have  the  habit  of  fall- 
ing in  love  with  an  idea.  The  idea  of  becom- 
ing a  motion  picture  star  is  appealing.  But 
like  many  other  general  conceptions  the  idea 
of  the  star's  life — as  gathered  from  a  smoothly 
displayed  picture  drama  or  a  magazine  article 
portraying  the  artist's  home,  her  automobile 
and  her  pets — is  misleading. 

Robert  Louis  Stevenson  wept  in  despair  over 
the  composition  of  many  of  his  stories.  A 
great  many  of  us  have  had  occasion  to  weep 
over  our  own  more  modest  efforts.  We  have 
found,  indeed,  that  the  most  beautiful  roses 


Lillian  Gish  and  the  late  Robert  Harron  in  a  love  scene 
from  "The  Greatest  Question." 


SCREEN    ACTING  29 

are  very  often  those  with  the  crudest  thorns. 

It  has  been  proved  that  motion  picture  stars 
cannot  be  made  over-night.  It  is  equally  true 
that  many  promising  actresses  do  not  become 
stars — in  the  accepted  professional  sense  of  the 
word — even  after  long  years  of  work. 

I  suppose  if  I  said  that  nobody  can  succeed 
in  motion  pictures  and  that  the  star  is  the  ex- 
ception to  the  rule  I  should  be  accused  of  being 
a  pessimist.  Yet  that  is  more  nearly  the  truth 
than  may  appear  on  the  surface. 

Consider,  for  instance,  the  thousands  of  act- 
ors and  actresses  who  have  appeared  before  a 
camera  in  the  past  decade.  After  you  have 
done  that  count  the  number  of  genuine  stars 
now  before  the  public.  You  can  name  the  ma- 
jority of  them  on  the  fingers  and  thumbs  of 
four  hands. 

Yet  in  the  heart  of  each  of  the  thousands, 
who  have  stepped  before  the  batteries  of  mo- 
tion picture  cameras,  there  was  undoubtedly 
the  hope  that  natural  ability,  circumstance  or 
hard  work  would  bring  success. 

It  is  well  to  take  this  into  consideration  when 
one  looks  toward  the  screen  for  a  career. 

But  sometimes  this  law  of  average  is  de- 
feated by  that  exceptional  person  whose  faith 
is  undiminished,  whose  confidence  in  one's  self 
is  boundless  and  whose  capacity  for  work 
never  flags. 

Let  me  cite  you  the  case  of  one  of  the  best 
known  young  actresses  on  the  screen  who,  as 


30  —    SCREEN    ACTING    — 

this  is  written,  has  never  enjoyed  the  full  priv- 
ileges of  stardom  though  she  has  shared  most 
of  its  disadvantages. 

She  began  her  screen  career  more  than  a 
half  dozen  years  ago.  She  was  frail,  and  slow 
to  absorb  the  lessons  of  the  screen.  Even  her 
dearest  friends  never  imputed  to  her  a  great 
natural  acting  talent. 

But  this  young  lady  was  dauntless.  She 
kept  everlastingly  at  it.  By  systematically  ex- 
ercising she  gradually  built  up  strength  and 
endurance.  When  she  was  given  a  part  she 
read  everything  she  had  access  to  which  would 
help  her  in  the  development  of  her  character 
portrayal. 

She  over-came  any  tendency  toward  self- 
consciousness  while  before  the  camera.  She 
became  adept  in  the  matter  of  thinking  up  busi- 
ness. The  fact  that  she  did  not  attain  star- 
dom, in  its  generally  accepted  sense,  never  de- 
terred her.  Year  after  year  she  gave  to  the 
screen  and  to  her  parts  the  best  that  was  in 
her. 

Her  courageousness  has  been  rewarded.  It 
is  my  opinion  that  in  the  past  two  years  she 
had  contributed  to  the  photographic  drama  two 
of  its  most  distinguished  characterizations. 
She  is  a  motion  picture  star  in  the  true  sense 
of  the  word.  Her  name  is  Lillian  Gish. 

If  I  seem  to  be  gazing  on  the  darker  side  of 
a  screen  career  I  assure  you  that  it  is  not  be- 
cause such  is  my  habit.  Quite  the  contrary. 


—    SCREEN    ACTING    —  31 

But  it  appears  to  me  that  since  there  seems  to 
be  such  a  universal  impulse  to  gain  fame 
through  the  medium  of  the  moving  picture 
drama  that  it  is  as  well  to  consider  some  of  its 
difficulties. 

Trained  actors  and  actresses  from  the 
spoken  stage  to  their  sorrow  have  found  these 
difficulties.  The  established  star  finds  some- 
times that  success  has  seemed  merely  to  double 
her  troubles. 

The  beginner  will  discover,  therefore,  that 
when  he  or  she  sets  his  or  her  face  toward  a 
screen  career  there  will  come  moments  when 
it  will  seem  much  easier  to  give  up  than  go  on. 
Those  who  give  up  will  be  those  who  should 
never  have  started.  They  will  have  wasted 
time  that  could  have  been  otherwise  more 
profitably  spent. 

Those  who  go  on — well,  there  is  always  hope 
for  such. 


I  am  always  interested  in  and  can  sympa- 
thize with  the  young  girl  who  yearns  for  a 
career.  It  seems  but  yesterday  that  I  was  in 
short  skirts  and  Miss  Marjorie  Rambeau  was 
the  most  talented  and  beautiful  actress  that 
was  ever  permitted  upon  the  face  of  the  earth. 
After  a  matinee  at  the  old  Burbank  theater  in 
Los  Angeles  a  young  girl  friend  and  I  often 
followed  Miss  Rambeau  discreetly  and  at  what 
might  be  called  a  worshipful  distance. 


32  —    SCREEN    ACTING    — 

Then  there  was  Mr.  Richard  Bennett. 
What  a  masterful,  handsome  man  was  he! 
My  goodness!  he  was  one  to  occupy  one's 
dreams;  to  make  one  wonder  if  somehow  it 
might  not  be  possible  to  grow  up  and  become 
his  leading  lady.  I  am  sure  that  the  very  par- 
agon of  modern-day  leading  men  could  not 
come  up  to  my  childhood  estimate  of  Mr.  Rich- 
ard Bennett. 


CHAPTER  III 

Seven  qualities  that  indicate  fitness  for  a  screen  career 
— Why  they  are  important — An  illus- 
tration of  vitality. 

As  I  HAVE  said,  I  have  been  asked  by  thous- 
ands of  correspondents  for  the  formula  for 
screen  success.  I  have  never  felt  able  to  an- 
swer. I  don't  believe  there  is  any  such 
formula. 

Putting  the  proposition  another  way : 

If  I  were  requested  to  choose  from  among 
ten  beginners  the  one  who  would  go  the  farth- 
est in  motion  pictures  I  should  unhesitatingly 
lay  my  finger  upon  the  one  who  possessed  the 
following  qualifications : 

(1)  Natural  talent. 

(2)  Ambition. 

(3)  Personality. 

(4)  Sincerity. 

(5)  Agreeable  appearance. 

(6)  Vitality  and  strength. 

(7)  Ability  to  learn  quickly. 

33 


34  —    SCREEN    ACTING    — 

I  am  sure  that  I  should  not  go  far  wrong  if 
I  were  to  place  my  trust  in  one  endowed  with 
these  qualities. 

A  natural  talent  for  acting  implies  more 
than  a  mere  desire  to  act.  It  is  the  art, 
usually  discovered  during  childhood,  of  mim- 
icry, and  the  joy  in  that  art. 

How  many  of  us  have  been  convulsed  in  our 
earlier  years  at  some  school  girl  friend's  take- 
off of  our  teacher  ?  How  many  of  us,  indeed, 
have  played  the  mimics  ?  I  seem  to  remember 
that  in  my  grammar  school  days  I  was  called 
upon  more  or  less  to  take-off  one  of  our 
teachers. 

If  not  called  upon  I  volunteered.  None  of 
my  school  chums  got  more  enjoyment  out  of 
my  "imitation  of  Miss  Blank"  than  I  did.  I 
never  dreamed  at  that  time — or,  if  I  did,  they 
were  vague  dreams — that  I  was  to  become  an 
actress.  Since  then  I  have  come  to  the  con- 
clusion that  I  was  actually  taking  my  first  steps 
toward  what  I  chose  as  a  career. 

Natural  talent,  as  I  have  called  it,  is  no  more 
than  a  tendency  toward,  or  an  aptitude  for, 
some  form  of  endeavor.  In  youth  my  first 
artistic  loves  were  for  mimicry  and  painting — 
the  latter  of  which  took  the  form  of  sculptur- 
ing— and  both  of  these  loves  have  been  en- 
during. 

For  that  reason  unless  my  candidate  for 
screen  success  had  previously  shown  some  love 
for  acting  or  mimicry  I  should  come  to  the  con- 


—    SCREEN    ACTING    —  35 

elusion  that  he  or  she  was  intoxicated  merely 
with  the  glamour  of  the  profession,  with  no 
especial  love  for  the  fundamental  thing  itself. 

This  is  an  important  point.  If  its  signif- 
icance were  duly  impressed  upon  the  thousands 
of  girls  and  boys,  who  would  like  to  choose  the 
screen  for  a  career,  perhaps,  some  of  them 
would  abandon  their  dreams  and  turn  to  things 
for  which  they  have  displayed  some  natural 
aptitude. 

Ambition  must,  of  course,  go  hand  in  hand 
with  natural  talent.  In  any  form  of  vocational 
training  it  is  assumed  that  the  student  has  a 
feverish  desire  to  succeed  in  the  particular  line 
that  he  has  elected  to  follow.  It  is  the  same 
on  the  screen. 

Possibly  I  might  have  written  down  enthus- 
iasm in  the  place  of  ambition.  After  one  has 
attained  stardom  and  thus,  perhaps,  achieved 
his  or  her  ambition  the  ability  to  sustain  en- 
thusiasm in  one's  work  becomes  more  import- 
ant than  ambition.  But  ambition  and  enthus- 
iasm are  closely  correlated. 

They  mean  that  one  has  an  ambition  to  gain 
the  top,  and  that  to  reach  that  position  one  has 
the  enthusiasm  to  practise  all  the  forms  of  self- 
denial,  discipline  and  study  that  are  important 
to  artistic  success  in  any  line. 

Personality  is  important  for  the  reason  that 
the  camera  has  a  way  of  registering  it  un- 
erringly. It  is  keen  in  detecting  the  weak  or 
vapid. 


36  —    SCREEN    ACTING    — 

In  my  eight  years  before  a  motion  picture 
camera  I  have  never  met  a  person  of  inferior 
fibre  whose  inferiority  was  not  accentuated  by 
the  camera.  For  that  reason  to  sustain  suc- 
cess on  the  screen  I  believe  there  is  nothing 
more  important  than  clean  thoughts  and  clean 
living.  They  do  register. 

It  is  precisely  the  same  with  sincerity.  In 
any  line  there  is  probably  little  hope  for  those 
who  lack  this  salient  quality.  But  a  motion 
picture  camera  seems  especially  to  delight  in 
exposing  insincerity. 

I  think  considerable  of  the  success  of  Mary 
Pickford  and  Charles  Ray — to  name  but  two 
stars — is  due  to  their  absolute  and  abundant 
sincerity.  The  camera,  finding  so  much  that 
is  clean  and  real,  has  jovously  reproduced  it. 
It  is  the  love  that  Miss  Pickford  radiates  from 
the  screen  and  the  obvious  manliness  of  Mr. 
Ray  that  are  among  their  biggest  assets.  This 
is  sincere  love  and  sincere  manliness,  or  it 
would  never  be  so  emphasized  by  the  camera. 

My  candidate  for  screen  honors,  therefore, 
must  have  the  God-given  quality  of  sincerity. 
Only  that  kind  can  feel  deeply,  think  cleanlv 
and  develop  the  sterling  traits  without  which 
neither  a  camera  or  a  public  can  be  very  long 
deceived. 

I  now  come  to  the  matter  of  personal  ap- 
pearance. This  is  a  topic  in  which  every  man 
under  65,  and  every  woman  under  100  vears 
seem  interested.  I  sometimes  wonder  if  it  is 


o 

as 

"a 

5 
I 

I 


e 


8 
•§ 


—    SCREEN    ACTING    —  39 

not  the  desire  to  see  how  they  would  look  on 
the  screen,  rather  than  how  they  might  act, 
that  fills  so  many  boys  and  girls  and  men  and 
women  with  an  ambition  for  a  screen  career. 

I  have  found  the  subject  of  such  universal 
interest  that  I  believe  it  deserves  a  chapter  to 
itself.  Therefore  I  shall  dismiss  this  matter 
until  the  next.  I  may  say,  however,  that  in 
my  candidate  I  should  rank  agreeable  appear- 
ance and  an  expressive  face  as  superior  to  mere 
beauty. 

To  paraphrase,  nothing  succeeds  like  good 
health.  Of  itself  it  is  the  most  valuable  thing 
that  we  should  own.  Good  health  can  be 
translated  into  terms  of  capacity  for  work. 
Therefore  since  a  screen  career  means  both 
hard  and  trying  work  I  should  insist  that  my 
candidate  possess  or  develop  the  qualities  of 
strength  and  vitality. 

I  am  aware  that  in  many  forms  of  art  such 
artists  as  Chopin,  Stevenson  and  Milton,  have 
become  famous  in  spite  of  great  physical  hand- 
icaps. I  do  not  believe  the  same  can  be  done 
in  pictures. 

It  seems  to  me  that  healthy  persons  like  to 
see  and  be  among  well  people.  Motion  picture 
audiences  being  invariably  in  first-class  phy- 
sical shape  themselves,  desire  that  those  who 
appear  before  them  on  the  screen  be  likewise 
fortunate.  It  is  my  belief  that  an  audience 
is  usually  bored  to  tears  by  a  convalescing  hero 
or  heroine.  If  I  were  in  charge  of  all  the 


40  —    SCREEN    ACTING    — 

scenarios  played  I  should  cut  such  episodes 
very  short.  They  beget  more  impatience  than 
sympathy. 

But  it  is  not  only  because  good  health  rad- 
iates from  the  screen  that  it  is  important.  In 
point  of  nervous  and  muscular  strain,  and  the 
often  long  studio  hours  that  are  necessary 
when  production  has  begun,  good  health  is 
essential. 

To  illustrate :  While  we  were  filming  "Polly 
of  The  Circus"  in  Fort  Lee  one  morning  I  re- 
ported at  the  studio  at  nine  o'clock.  We  were 
working  on  some  interior  scenes  that  were 
vital  to  the  success  of  the  story.  My  director 
at  that  time  was  Mr.  Charles  Horan.  Mr. 
Vernon  Steele  was  playing  the  male  lead. 

That  day  we  became  so  engrossed  in  playing 
some  rather  delicate  scenes  that  before  we 
knew  it — or  at  least  before  I  could  realize  it — 
it  was  six  o'clock,  and  we  weren't  half  done. 

"What  do  you  say  to  continuing?"  asked 
Mr.  Horan. 

"Good;  we're  right  in  the  spirit  of  it,"  I 
replied. 

We  had  a  bite  to  eat  and  worked  on  until 
midnight.  In  spite  of  our  hard  and  earnest 
efforts  there  were  several  scenes  with  which 
we  were  dissatisfied. 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Horan  ruefully.  "Tomor- 
row will  be  another  day." 

As  he  spoke  it  dawned  upon  me  how  one  of 


—    SCREEN    ACTING    —          41 

the  scenes  on  which  we  felt  we  had  failed  could 
be  done  with  probable  success. 

"Why  tomorrow?"  I  replied.  "Let's  make 
a  night  of  it  if  necessary.  We  simply  have  to 
get  that  scene." 

Mr.  Horan  grinned.  That  had  been  his 
wish.  But  he  had  feared  breaking  the  camel's 
back. 

We  worked  until  four  o'clock  that  morning. 
Things  went  swimmingly.  It  was  broad  day- 
light when  I  ferried  across  the  Hudson  but  if 
I  was  very  tired  I  was  equally  happy. 

Several  times  during  "Polly  of  the  Circus" 
we  had  experiences  which,  in  the  number  of 
hours  put  in,  were  similar  to  that  which  I  have 
related.  But  in  the  end  it  was  worth  while. 
We  had  a  picture. 

At  that  time  I  was  feeling  in  the  best  of 
health  but,  even  so,  the  long  hours  had  been  a 
severe  drain  upon  my  none  too  great  vitality. 
For  anyone  lacking  strength  and  vitality  such 
hours  would  have  been  impossible. 

It  is  not  my  intention  to  write  a  booklet  on 
health.  But  all  of  us  should  be  very  careful 
of  our  most  precious  possession.  I  know  of  so 
many  young  girls  in  motion  pictures  who  have 
let  their  health  get  away  from  them.  And 
some  of  the  cases  are  so  pitiful.  .  .  . 

My  candidate,  then,  will  have  strength  and 
vitality  and,  equally  important,  he  or  she  will 
cling  to  both,  whatever  social  sacrifices  may 
have  to  be  made  to  preserve  them. 


42  —    SCREEN    ACTING    — 

The  ability  to  learn  quickly  will  save  anyone 
going  into  screen  work  so  much  trouble  and 
possible  humiliation  that  it  may  well  be  listed 
as  an  essential  qualification. 

The  screen  is  no  place  for  the  mental  lag- 
gard. The  beginner,  particularly,  must  be 
alive  to  learn  the  new  lessons  that  each  day 
will  bring,  and  learning  them  he  must  remem- 
ber. 

During  the  course  of  production  in  a  studio 
things  are  at  high  tension.  Time  is  money. 
Each  of  us  constitutes  a  more  or  less  impor- 
tant cog  in  a  great  machine.  Those  cogs  that 
inexcusably  forget  to  function  are  eliminated. 


CHAPTER  IV 

Beauty  and  the  measure  of  looks  upon  the  screen — 

Expression  most  important — Tragedies  of 

doll-faces — Photographic  "angles." 

WHAT  FOLLOWS  happened  during  the  Na- 
tional Convention  of  Motion  Picture  Pro- 
ducers in  1917  at  Chicago.  The  convention 
was  held  at  the  Coliseum.  There  were  jazz 
bands,  gay  and  costly  decorations,  and  motion 
picture  celebrities  from  both  Coasts.  The  car- 
nival spirit  ran  high  and  thousands  of  motion 
picture  fans  squeezed  into  that  huge  old  build- 
ing. 

The  opening  was  called  "Mae  Marsh  Day." 
I  shall  not  soon  forget  it.  That  night  as  our 
party  entered  the  Coliseum  through  the  mana- 
ger's private  office  I  espied  in  the  center  of  the 
building  a  newly  erected  platform  draped  with 
bunting  and  decorated  with  flowers. 

"You  will  make  a  little  speech,"  the  manager 
said. 

I  gasped.  I  think  I  almost  fainted.  I  had 
never  made  a  formal  speech.  The  idea  of  it 

43 


44  —    SCREEN    ACTING 

was  as  foreign  to  me  as  becoming  Queen  of 
the  South  Sea  Islands. 

"All  right,"  I  gurgled  weakly. 

My  voice  has  never  been  strong.  As  I 
walked  to  the  platform  the  Coliseum  was  a 
bedlam  of  sound.  I  was  introduced  with  diffi- 
culty. With  sinking  knees  I  stepped  forward. 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen  I  am  sure  I  am 
pleased  to — " 

A  jazz  band,  which  seemed  to  be  located 
somewhere  immediately  beneath  my  feet,  began 
to  loudly  play.  I  didn't  know  whether  to  dance 
or  sing.  It  was  a  medley  in  which  "The  Star- 
Spangled  Banner"  was  predominant.  I  blessed 
the  band.  I  doubly  blessed  our  national  an- 
them. Looking  about  me  I  saw  a  small  Amer- 
ican flag.  I  grasped  it  and  stood  waving  it  to 
the  strains  of  our  national  air.  The  conven- 
tion was  duly  opened. 

Afterward,  when  I  stood  upon  a  small  table 
giving  away  carnations  until  my  wrist  ached 
— smiling  like  a  chorus  girl  meantime — a  wom- 
an informed  my  mother  that  she  wished  to  see 
me  on  an  important  matter.  In  the  press  of 
those  thousands  of  children  and  grown-ups  I 
was  virtually  trapped. 

"Tell  her,"  I  suggested,  "to  call  at  the  Black- 
stone  Hotel  tomorrow  morning." 

She  came.  She  was  a  plain  woman  with  an 
honest  eye.  She  brought  along  two  small 


—    SCREEN    ACTING    —  45 

daughters  aged,  respectively,  ten  and  twelve, 
I  afterward  ascertained. 

"Miss  Marsh,"  she  declared,  leaning  for- 
ward expectantly  in  her  chair,  "I  think  my  two 
daughters  should  succeed  in  motion  pictures. 
One  of  them  is  very  beautiful,  and  the  other 
looks  like  you." 

I  told  this  honest  lady,  with  as  straight  a 
face  as  I  could  command,  that  while  her 
daughters  were  still  too  young  to  think  of  play- 
ing in  motion  pictures  that  some  day,  perhaps, 
I  could  do  something  for  them,  particularly  the 
one  that  looked  like  me. 

In  approaching  the  matter  of  screen  faces  I 
am  strongly  reminded  of  that  Chicago  lady.  I 
believe  her  logic  was  essentially  sound.  There 
is  no  measure  of  looks  for  the  motion  picture 
screen.  If  there  is  a  yardstick  it  applies  to  ex- 
pression, or  animation,  and  not  looks. 

No  one  admires  a  beautiful  face  upon  the 
screen  more  than  I.  If  it  so  happens  that  this 
beauty  is  allied  with  ability  then  I  am  often 
given  to  the  thought  that  they  are  not  a  con- 
genial combination.  For  beauty,  ever  a  queenly 
quality,  is  diverting  and  manages  in  this  way 
and  that  to  steal  some  of  the  thunder  that 
rightfully  belongs  to  ability. 

If,  as  sometimes  happens,  I  see  mere  beauty 
being  exploited  on  the  screen  with  no  sem- 
blance of  acting  talent,  I  am  ready  to  give  up 
my  seat  to  the  next  one  along  about  the  third 
reel.  Nothing  palls  upon  one  more  quickly. 


46  —    SCREEN    ACTING 

Therefore,  I  am  at  odds  with  those  who  be- 
lieve that  beauty  is  necessary  for  the  screen  be- 
ginner. Say  for  beauty  that  it  has  the  merit  of 
more  quickly  attracting  attention  to  the  one 
who  possesses  it  and  you  have  done  it  full  jus- 
tice. But  even  then,  if  it  is  unaccompanied  by 
ability,  it  is  just  another  tragedy  of  a  doll-face. 

Acting  is  primarily  the  ability  to  express 
something.  If  the  face  that  conveys  that  feel- 
ing is  not  disagreeable  then  it  becomes  a  matter 
of  not  how  much  beauty  is  in  the  face  but  how 
much  expression.  That  was  certainly  the  case 
with  Mme.  Sarah  Bernhardt.  All  of  us  know 
plain  appearing  persons  whose  faces,  when 
they  have  something  to  say,  become  interesting 
and  expressive. 

They  impress  us  as  individuals  whose  beauty 
is  inside  or  spiritual.  That  is  a  lovely  quality 
for  the  screen.  On  the  other  hand  we  know, 
all  of  us,  persons  who  are  generally  considered 
beautiful  whose  faces,  under  any  circum- 
stances, have  no  more  animation  than  a  mask 
These  people  strike  us  as  spiritually  barren, 
lacking  in  humor,  or  something. 

If  my  candidate  for  screen  honors  has  sim- 
ply an  agreeable  appearance  and  good  eyes — 
which  I  consider  most  important  of  all  facial 
features — I  shall  be  satisfied  provided  his  or 
her  face,  and  particularly  the  eyes,  are  expres- 
sive. 

It  has  been  my  observation  that  while  beauty 
or  good  looks  is  largely  a  matter  of  opinion — 


A  beautiful  young  star  and  her  director,  Mary  Miles 
Minter  and  Chester  Franklin, 


—    SCREEN    ACTING    —  49 

which  has  furnished  many  lively  debates — the 
quality  of  expression  or  animation  is  seldom 
denied  those  who  possess  it.  For  that  reason 
my  candidate,  if  he  or  she  has  an  expressive 
face,  will  have  a  more  valuable  and  certain 
stock-in-trade  than  mere  good  looks. 

In  spite  of  this  logic  most  of  us  stars  go  on 
wishing  to  be  thought  beautiful,  or  to  have  it 
thought  that  we  could  be  beautiful  if  we 
wanted  to  be.  I  recollect  that  it  took  time  and 
courage  for  some  of  us  to  brave  our  publics  in 
other  than  our  pet  make-ups. 

There  are,  for  instance,  two  stars  who  had 
always  regarded  their  curls  as  indispensable. 
After  many  years  of  stardom  one  of  them  de- 
cided to  take  what  she  thought  was  a  desperate 
chance.  She  skinned  her  hair  back  and  played 
the  part  of  a  little  English  slavey.  The  result 
was  that  she  turned  out  one  of  the  most  suc- 
cessful pictures  in  her  career. 

Another,  a  dear  friend  of  mine,  we  used  to 
call  "The  Primper."  She  never  appeared  upon 
the  set  without  her  curls  just  so.  I  think  at 
that  time  she  thought  they  were  the  most  im- 
portant part  of  her  career. 

She  has  reformed.  As  her  art  developed  she 
became  less  particular  about  her  hair  dress. 
One  night  in  a  little  theater  in  Jamaica,  Long 
Island,  I  dropped  in  to  see  one  of  her  photo- 
plays. It  was  an  excellent  picture.  Her  hair 
was  drawn  back  tightly  over  her  head  into  a 
knot.  That  night  I  wired  her  congratulations. 


50  —    SCREEN    ACTING    — 

No ;  eurls,  Grecian  noses,  up-tilted  chins  and 
rose-tinted  cheeks  are  not  the  measure  of  suc- 
cess upon  the  screen.  It  is  something  that 
goes  deeper  than  that. 

It  is  something  that  goes  deep  enough  to 
over-ride  facial  defects.  There  is  one  excel- 
lent little  star,  for  example,  who,  because  of 
a  nose  unfortunately  large,  must  always  work 
full  face  when  near  the  camera.  I  think  she 
is  charming.  Another,  for  an  odd  reason,  per- 
mits only  a  one-way  profile  to  be  taken.  There 
are  many  such  cases. 

Indeed,  the  majority  of  us  have  our  "an- 
gles." By  "angles"  I  mean  the  full,  three- 
quarters,  one-quarter  or  profile  views  in  which 
we  think  we  appear  at  our  best.  Each  star  has 
studied  that  point  out  for  his  or  herself.  And, 
since  we  are  taking  largely  our  own  opinion  for 
it,  it  is  possible  we  are  mistaken.  But  our 
vanity  upholds  us. 

In  my  own  case  I  was  hauled  into  motion 
pictures  while  sitting  rather  forlornly  on  a 
soapbox  waiting  for  my  sister  Marguerite. 
Since  at  that  time  I  was  without  curls,  having 
never  had  any  before  or  since,  and  looked  as  I 
look,  so  to  speak,  it  has  never  been  necessary 
for  me  to  expend  any  great  amount  of  time  in 
make-up.  That  has  been  satisfactory  to  me. 


CHAPTER  V 

The  story,  make-up  and  costuming — Rouge  riots  and 

their  disadvantages — The  blond 

and  the  "back  spot." 

IN  ANY  ART  or  profession  the  ability  to  seize 
opportunity  when  it  presents  itself  is  impor- 
tant. This  is  especially  true  in  motion  pictures. 
Things  move  very  fast  there.  It  is  like  a  game 
where  the  knack  of  doing  the  right  thing  at  the 
right  time  determines  one's  value. 

After  the  beginner  has  done  his  extra  work, 
or  small  bits,  if  he  is  of  the  right  stuff,  he  will 
some  day  be  given  a  part.  He  may  be  unaware 
of  it,  but  that  will  be  the  biggest  moment  of  his 
screen  career. 

When  doing  extra  work  or  small  bits  the 
critics,  the  public,  and  the  profession  have  paid 
little  attention  to  the  beginner.  But  once  the 
beginner  secures  a  part  he  comes  instantly  into 
the  eye  of  everyone  interested  in  the  screen. 
We  are  all  diverted  by  new  faces. 

Thus  the  impression  that  the  beginner  will 
make  in  his  first  part  is  one  that  will  for  a  long 
time  endure.  It  comes  very  near  making  or 

51 


52  —    SCREEN    ACTING    — 

breaking  him.  This  may  seem  hard.  Often 
it  is  unjust — a  beginner  may  have  a  part  forced 
upon  him  for  which  he  is  unfitted.  But  it  is 
true.  And  we  have  to  deal  with  conditions  on 
the  screen  as  we  find  them. 

For  that  reason  when  the  big  moment  comes, 
and  the  part  is  secured,  the  beginner  must  do 
everything  within  his  or  her  power  to  be  as 
well  prepared  as  possible. 

There  are  in  this  respect  three  important 
mechanical  details  that  must  be  looked  after.  I 
should  list  them  as  follows : 

( 1 )  Studying  the  story. 

(2)  Studying  make-up. 

(3)  Studying  costuming. 

The  beginner  will  be  given  the  story — or 
script — typewritten  in  continuity  form.  Con- 
tinuity means  t  he  scene  by  scene  action 
through  which  the  story  is  told.  Ordinarily 
there  will  be  some  three  hundred  scenes  or 
"shots"  to  the  average  photoplay. 

The  beginner  will  first  look  to  the  plot  and 
theme  of  the  story.  We  want  to  know  what 
the  author  is  telling  and  how  he  is  trying  to  tell 
it.  We  find  the  big  situations  and  the  action 
that  precedes  them.  More  important,  we  lo- 
cate the  why  of  it. 

When  I  have  established  the  idea  of  the  play 
I  immediately  go  over  the  script  again  with  an 
eye  alert  for  business.  By  business  I  mean  the 
tricks,  mannerisms,  and  the  apparent  unex- 


—    SCREEN    ACTING    —  53 

pected  or  involuntary  moves  that  help  to  sus- 
tain action. 

The  value  of  good  business  cannot  be  over- 
rated. It  goes  a  long  way  toward  making  up 
for  the  lack  of  voice.  Without  clever  business 
any  photoplay  would  drag.  The  two-reel  com- 
edy, which  I  have  observed  is  popular  with 
audiences  of  all  ages,  is  usually  but  a  sequence 
of  business. 

If  the  business  that  is  planned  upon  seems 
natural  to  the  character — the  wiggling  of  a 
foot  when  excited,  the  inability  to  control  the 
hands,  the  apparent  unconscious  raising  of  an 
eyebrow,  etc. — I  am  sure  there  can  be  no  real 
objection  to  it.  The  audience,  who  are  the  final 
critics,  love  it. 

Just  the  other  night  I  saw  Mr.  Douglas  Fair- 
banks in  a  play  the  final  scene  of  which  de- 
picted him  in  the  act  of  making  love  to  his  in- 
tended. That  there  might  be  some  privacy  to 
the  undertaking  they  were  screening  them- 
selves from  the  view  of  the  guests — and  the 
audience! — with  a  large  silken  handkerchief. 

The  girl  might  have  stood  still.  If  she  had 
there  could  have  no  criticism.  Neither  would 
there  have  been  much  of  anything  else,  as  her 
face  was  hidden  from  view.  She  laid  her  hands 
over  a  balustrade  and  wiggled  her  fingers.  The 
audience  roared. 

These  are  the  things  which  keep  a  photoplay 
from  dragging.  They  give  the  action  a  piq- 
uancy and  charm. 


54  —    SCREEN    ACTING    — 

Now  while  the  audience  may  believe  that 
these  things  are  done  on  the  spur  of  the  mo- 
ment the  facts  are  very  contrary.  These  bits 
of  business  must  be  planned  in  advance  and  it 
is  only  an  evidence  that  they  have  been  well 
planned  when  they  appear  to  be  done  uncon- 
sciously. 

While  it  is  true  that  we  have  all  discovered 
very  telling  bits  of  business  during  the  actual 
photographing  of  a  scene,  we  can  count  this  as 
nothing  but  good  fortune.  To  leave  the  matter 
of  business  until  the  director  called  "Camera !" 
would  be  fatal. 

Thus  in  going  over  a  script  I  look  for  busi- 
ness. I  think  of  all  the  business  I  can,  knowing 
that  much  of  it  will  prove  impracticable  and 
will  have  to  be  discarded.  Nor  is  that  all. 
When  the  scenic  sets  upon  which  we  are  to 
work  are  erected  at  the  studio  or  on  location, 
I  look  them  over  very  carefully  in  the  hope  that 
some  article  of  furniture,  etc.,  will  suggest 
some  attractive  piece  of  business.  An  odd  fan, 
a  pillow,  a  door,  in  fact,  anything  may  prove 
valuable. 

I  should  suggest  to  my  candidate  that  he 
or  she  be  just  as  alert  for  good  business  as  the 
star  is.  The  good  director  is  always  open  to 
suggestion.  Business  may  make  all  the  differ- 
ence between  a  colorless  and  a  vivid  portrayal 
of  a  part.  Thus  for  the  beginner  who,  in  ob- 
taining a  part,  has  reached  the  most  vital  mo- 
ment of  his  career,  the  value  of  keeping  an  eye 


—    SCREEN    ACTING    —  57 

open  to  the  possibilities  of  business  is  apparent. 

Make-up,  like  much  of  everything  else  on  the 
screen,  is  a  personal  matter.  There  are,  how- 
ever, some  general  rules  that  can  be  followed 
to  advantage. 

I  should  instruct  my  candidate  not  to  make 
up  too  much.  It  seems  to  me  that  I  have  ob- 
served a  tendency  in  this  direction  recently. 

Some  actresses  have  laid  on  lip  rouge  so 
thickly  that  their  lips  seem  to  run  liquid.  Rouge 
photographs  black.  The  result  has  been  that 
this  riot  of  lip  paint  has  given  them  the  appear- 
ance of  having  no  teeth.  Others  have  used  too 
much  and  too  dark  make-up  about  the  eyes. 
Nothing  more  quickly  ruins  expression.  Such 
eyes  have  the  look  of  holes  burned  in  a  blanket 
and  for  dramatic  purposes  are  only  slightly 
more  useful. 

Since  my  candidate  will  have  youth,  good 
health  and  vitality  he  or  she  will  not  have  to 
resort  to  tricks  of  make-up.  There  are  many 
such.  I  recall  the  case  of  one  actress  who  is 
considered  a  beauty  on  the  spoken  stage.  On 
the  screen  she  discovered  that  the  motion  pic- 
ture camera  is  not  very  kind  to  some  people. 
The  lines  and  flabbiness  which  were  in  her  face 
were  accurately  reproduced.  She  thought,  of 
course,  they  were  exaggerated. 

She  was  in  despair  until  she  found  that  by 
laying  heavy  strips  of  adhesive  tape  over  her 
ears  and  behind  her  neck — she  wore  a  wig — 
these  lines  and  flabbiness  were  overcome.  The 


58  —    SCREEN    ACTING    — 

tape  pulled  her  face  into  shape!  But,  I  am 
sure  it  must  have  been  painful. 

Another  actress,  it  is  an  open  secret,  under- 
goes periodic  operations  for  the  removal  of  the 
flabby  flesh  underneath  her  chin.  Others  af- 
flicted with  the  hated  "double  chin"  rouge  the 
guilty  member  heavily  with  more  or  less  suc- 
cess. Still  others  wear  collars  and  necklaces  to 
thwart  flabbiness. 

None  of  us  need  laugh ;  that  is  if  we  are  in 
motion  pictures.  If  we  stay  there  long  enough 
we  mav  be  driven  to  similar  measures. 

m 

In  make-up,  to  begin  at  the  top,  is  to  consider 
the  hair.  Let  me  say,  first  of  all,  that  this 
should  always  be  kept  very  clean.  The  camera 
has  a  way  of  treating  us  unpleasantly  if  it 
isn't. 

Some  actresses  have  set  styles  of  hair  dress 
which  they  seldom  vary.  I  think  of  Madge 
Kennedy's  "band  of  hair,"  Dorothy  Gish's 
black  wig  and  the  Pickford  Curls. 

Dorothy  Gish  had  tried  many  styles  of  hair 
dress  and  found  none  of  them  to  her  liking. 
She  experimented  with  a  black  wig  and  was 
delighted  with  the  result.  It  contributed  some- 
thing to  her  expression — brought  it  out,  as  it 
were — which  she  felt  had  been  lacking.  Since 
"Hearts  of  the  World"  she  has  never  stepped 
before  a  camera  without  her  trusty  B.  W. 

But  while  most  of  us  have  a  favorite  style 
of  wearing  our  hair  most  of  us  are  forced  often 
to  lay  aside  that  style  to  suit  the  character  we 


—    SCREEN    ACTING    —  59 

are  playing.  Playing  a  child  we  let  our  hair 
hang.  The  length  or  abundance  doesn't  seem 
to  particularly  matter. 

If  enacting  the  daughter  of  a  well-to-do 
business  man  then  we  may  have  our  hair  plain 
or  marceled  to  suit  our  fancy.  Plain  hair 
seems  to  suggest  sweetness.  If  playing  a  saucy 
character  we  must  contrive  some  dress  that 
will  convey  the  desired  effect. 

Blonds,  in  motion  pictures,  are  traditionally 
fluffy-haired.  There  is  a  very  good  reason  for 
this,  by  the  way.  Some  years  ago  Mr.  Griffith 
— who  usually  does  everything  first — discov- 
ered that  by  leveling  a  back  spotlight  on 
Blanche  Sweet's  fluffy,  blond  hair  it  gave  the 
appearance  of  sunlight  showing  through. 

On  the  screen  it  was  beautiful.  Since  that 
time  the  "back  spot"  has  been  worked  to  death. 
In  spite  of  the  fact  that  it  is  an  old  trick  it  is 
one  that  is  still  very  much  respected  by  the 
actress — or  us  blond  actresses,  as  it  were. 

The  back  light  shining  through  the  hair  has 
a  tendency  to  take  away  all  the  hard  lines  of 
the  face.  It  leaves  it  smooth  and  free  from 
worry.  How  often  in  a  motion  picture  have  I 
heard  the  involuntary  expression,  "How  beau- 
tiful !"  when  such  a  shot — usually  a  close-up — 
is  shown. 

Many  of  you  may  have  wondered  why  a 
blond  seems  to  have  dark  hair  in  many  interior 
scenes  and  blond  hair  out  of  doors.  Here  is 
one  fault,  at  least,  that  we  can  shift  to  other 


60  —    SCREEN    ACTING    — 

shoulders.  If  a  blond's  hair  is  dark  indoors  it 
is  because  the  cameraman  has  failed  in  his 
lighting  arrangement. 

But  even  with  the  most  expert  manipulation 
of  lights  there  is  no  rival  in  motion  pictures  for 
the  sun.  For  blonds  and  brunettes  alike  he  is 
Allah. 

And  now  since  this  matter  of  make-up  re- 
quires more  space  and  this  chapter  is  growing 
long  we  shall  skip  to  the  next. 


CHAPTER  VI 

More  about  noses  and  chins — Costumes  as  important 

to  the  star  as  a  story  to  the  director — 

Rags  and  riches. 

IN  THE  MATTER  of  face  and  make-up  we  sel- 
dom think  of  the  forehead.  Yet  I  personally 
admire  a  pretty  forehead  very  much  and  think 
it  is  as  important  as  a  good  mouth  or  nose,  if 
secondary  to  the  eyes.  Comprising  as  it  does 
— or  should — one-third  of  the  face  it  is  noth- 
ing if  not  conspicuous. 

If  to  be  deep  and  learned  is  to  have  an  ex- 
tremely high  forehead  then  to  be  deep  and 
learned  on  the  screen  is  to  labor  under  one  defi- 
nite handicap.  For  the  girl  with  a  too  high 
forehead  cannot  skin  her  hair  back  without  ap- 
pearing ugly. 

Those  of  us  with  medium  foreheads  are 
more  fortunate.  Whatever  may  be  said  for 
our  mental  capacity  we  can,  at  any  rate,  skin 
our  hair  back  and  thereby  add  very  much  to 
our  expression. 

The  girl  with  the  high  forehead  compro- 
mises by  trying  to  keep  some  of  it  covered  but 

61 


62  —    SCREEN    ACTING    — 

it  never  gives  quite  the  effect  of  hair  drawn 
tightly  back. 

I  should  particularly  admonish  my  screen 
beginner  against  too  much  make-up  about  the 
eyes.  For  blue  or  gray  eyes,  a  light  gray  make- 
up is  used;  for  brown  or  black  eyes,  a  light 
brown  make-up. 

We  frequently  hear  it  said  that  brown  eyes 
photograph  best  for  the  screen,  but  I  have 
never  heard  anyone  whom  I  would  accept  as 
an  authority  say  that.  I  believe  that  all  colors 
are  equally  good.  It  is  far  more  important 
that  a  screen  actress's  eyes  be  expressive  than 
it  is  that  they  be  either  brown  or  blue. 

Thus  if  we  have  expressive  eyes  and  evade 
the  error  of  making  them  up  so  heavily  as  to 
create  the  "burnt  hole"  aspect  we  shall  have 
nothing  to  worry  about.  Generally  speaking 
the  more  prominent  the  eyes  and  eyebrows  the 
less  of  make-up  should  be  used.  There  are  ex- 
ceptions. 

A  nose  is  something  we  can  do  nothing 
about.  We  either  have  or  haven't  a  good  nose. 
If  the  nose  is  so  badly  out  of  symmetry  with 
the  face  as  to  be  unsightly  its  possessor  will 
probably  have  to  confine  himself,  or  herself, 
to  character  parts.  There  are  some  who  have 
attained  stardom,  even  with  ill-shaped  noses, 
but  I  think  of  very  few.  These  by  devious 
practices  conceal  the  defect  as  well  as  possible. 

Make-up  for  the  nose  is  usually  for  charac- 
ter and  not  star  parts.  A  spot  of  rouge  at  the 


— -    SCREEN    ACTING    —  63 

tip  of  the  nose  will  give  it  a  turned  up  or  pug 
appearance.  When  playing  a  mulatto  in  "The 
Birth  of  a  Nation"  Miss  Mary  Alden  inserted 
within  her  nostrils  two  plugs  that  permitted 
her  to  breathe  and  yet  had  the  effect  of  greatly 
widening  her  nostrils.  The  late  and  beloved 
"Bobby"  Harron  broadened  his  nose  with 
putty  in  the  same  play  in  one  of  the  scenes  in 
which  he  doubled  as  a  negro.  The  screen  lost 
one  of  its  sweetest  and  most  lovable  characters 
when  "Bobby"  Harron  died. 

But  these  cases  were  characterizations.  For 
star  purposes  a  nose  is  a  nose.  The  pity  is 
that  sometimes  even  well-shaped  noses  seem  to 
lose  something  or  gain  too  much  when  they  are 
reproduced  on  the  screen. 

The  lips  and  chin  require  a  light  make-up 
for  the  very  good  reason,  again,  that  to  overdo 
in  this  respect  is  to  stifle  expression.  It  is  my 
opinion  that  those  who  are  becoming  addicted 
to  an  extremely  heavy  make-up  of  lips  are  mak- 
ing a  mistake.  It  is  unreal.  It  is  not  art.  Such 
thick,  sensuous,  liquid  lips  as  I  have  beheld  on 
the  screen  during  the  past  year  have  never 
been  seen  on  land  or  sea. 

The  chin  is  a  good  deal  like  the  nose.  Very 
little  can  be  done  about  it.  If  it  protrudes  too 
much,  or  is  abruptly  receding,  its  possessor 
will  probably  find  himself  chosen  for  character 
parts.  Here  what  are  otherwise  considered 
facial  defects  will  be  no  handicap  at  all.  On 
the  contrary  they  may  be  a  decided  help. 


64  —    SCREEN    ACTING    — 

As  in  the  case  of  the  ill-shaped  nose  there 
are  stars  who  have  succeeded  in  spite  of  an 
absence,  or  too  great  presence,  of  chin.  They 
have  learned  the  photographic  angles  at  which 
they  appear  to  the  best  advantage.  In  one  way 
or  another,  when  working  close  to  the  camera, 
they  keep  always  within  these  angles.  Thus 
they  prove  that  there  can  be  an  exception  to 
any  rule. 

If  in  the  matter  of  make-up  I  can  convince 
my  candidate  that  he  or  she  will  be  better  off 
by  using  as  little  as  possible  of  it,  I  shall  be 
willing  to  pass  on  to  the  next  topic. 

Hands,  too,  must  be  kept  clean  and  are 
usually  made  up  with  white  chalk. 

I  often  think  that  costumes  are  to  the  star 
as  important  as  the  story  is  to  the  director. 

Whatever  may  be  the  case  in  everyday  life 
clothes  do  make  the  man,  or  the  woman,  in 
motion  pictures.  They  establish  character  even 
more  swiftly  than  action  or  expression.  No 
where  so  much  as  in  motion  pictures  does  the 
general  public  accept  people  at  their  clothes 
value.  There  are  the  over-dress  of  vulgarity, 
the  shoddiness  of  poverty,  the  conservatism  of 
decency  and  so  on,  each  of  them  speaking  as 
plainly  as  words  of  the  person  so  attired. 

Now  if  mere  over-dress,  shoddiness,  con- 
servatism, and  so  on,  were  all  that  were  neces- 
sary the  process  would  be  quite  simple.  But 
the  art  of  costuming  is  more  subtle  than  that. 


Madame  Nazimova,  one  of  the  few  dramatic  stars  who  quickly 
mastered  the  art  of  the  screen. 


—    SCREEN    ACTING    —  67 

In  each  costume  there  must  be  something 
original  and  personal.  In  other  words,  some- 
thing that  is  peculiarly  suited  to  the  precise 
character  that  is  being  portrayed.  There  must 
be  also  a  color  contrast  or  harmony  that  will  be 
favorable  to  good  motion  picture  photography. 

In  addition,  the  costume  in  a  broader  sense 
should  harmonize  with  the  scenic  setting.  The 
costume,  more  than  anything  else,  will  estab- 
lish the  fiction  of  age.  To  appear  very  young 
or  middle-aged  is  to  dress  young  or  middle- 
aged. 

In  addition  to  its  value  in  suggesting  char- 
acter the  costume  has  attained  a  new  impor- 
tance in  that  the  screen  has  become  a  sort  of 
fashion  magazine.  The  thousands  of  young 
ladies  who  live  outside  of  New  York,  London 
or  Paris  have  come  to  look  more  and  more  to 
the  screen  for  the  latest  fashions,  and  are  ac- 
cordingly influenced. 

With  this  phase  of  costuming  my  candidate 
need  not  particularly  interest  herself  beyond 
remembering  that  women  love  to  see  pretty 
clothes  and  that  those  who  give  them  the  op- 
portunity occupy  an  especial  niche  in  their  af- 
fections. 

The  beginner  who  learns  the  knack  of  dress- 
ing for  the  screen  in  a  manner  that  is  sharply 
expressive  of  the  character  being  played,  and, 
in  a  way  to  bring  out  what  the  actress  herself 
has  come  to  regard  as  her  strong  point,  will 
find  her  pains  rewarded. 


68  —    SCREEN    ACTING    — 

Mr.  Griffith  has  always  been  extremely 
painstaking  about  screen  clothes.  Even  in  the 
early  days  of  the  old  Biograph  two-reelers  we 
had  screen  tests  for  costumes.  It  was  no  un- 
usual thing  to  hear  him  say,  after  one  of  us 
had  been  at  much  pains  to  select  a  costume 
which  we  thought  did  justice  to  both  our  part 
and  ourselves,  "No,  that  won't  do!"  Possibly 
we  were  trying  to  do  too  much  justice  to  our- 
selves. 

Anyhow  we  often  had  as  many  as  four  cos- 
tumes made  before  Mr.  Griffith  was  suited. 
Then  he  invariably  suggested  a  ribbon,  a  fan, 
a  bit  of  old  lace,  etc.,  the  effect  of  which  upon 
the  screen  was  always  pleasing. 

I  have  been  told  that  one  of  the  sweetest  and, 
at  the  same  time,  most  pathetic  scenes  done  in 
motion  pictures  occurred  in  "The  Birth  of  a 
Nation"  where  I,  as  Flora  Cameron,  the  little 
sister  of  the  Confederate  soldier,  trimmed  my 
cheap,  home-made  dress  in  preparing  to  wel- 
come home  my  big  brother. 

It  was  Mr.  Henry  Walthall,  himself  a  south- 
erner by  birth,  who  suggested  this  bit  of  busi- 
ness. 

You  will  remember  the  situation.  The  Cam- 
erons,  an  old  and  distinguished  Southern  fam- 
ily, had  been  impoverished  by  the  war.  They 
were  preparing  for  the  return  of  the  big 
brother — played  capitally  by  Mr.  Walthall — 
with  the  mixture  of  emotion  to  be  expected 
under  the  circumstances.  I,  as  the  youngest 


—    SCREEN    ACTING    —  69 

member  of  the  family,  was  least  affected  by 
our  cruel  poverty.  The  joy  of  being  about  to 
see  my  big  brother  again  overcame  any  other 
feeling. 

I  begin  to  dress.  The  sadness  of  my  stricken 
family  cannot  affect  my  holiday  spirit.  I  have 
but  one  dress.  It  is  of  sack  cloth.  I  find  that 
its  pitiful  plainness  is  not  in  keeping  with  my 
happiness  or  the  importance  of  the  event. 
Looking  about  for  something  with  which  to 
trim  that  dress  I  find  some  strips  of  cotton — 
"southern  ermine,"  as  it  was  called.  With  these 
I  trim  that  homely  old  dress,  spotting  the  "er- 
mine" with  soot  from  the  fireplace,  in  a  man- 
ner that  I  think  will  be  pleasing  to  my  big 
brother. 

Mr.  Walthall  suggested  the  "southern  er- 
mine" and  it  was  Mr.  Griffith,  always  kindly 
in  the  matter  of  accepting  a  suggestion,  who 
built  the  drama  about  it.  I  have  had  many 
women,  from  the  North  as  well  as  the  South, 
tell  me  that  to  them  this  scene  is  the  most  af- 
fecting they  ever  have  seen  in  the  picture 
drama.  I  know  I  have  played  few,  if  any,  in 
which  I  have  felt  more  deeply  the  spirit  of 
the  action. 

In  "The  Birth  of  a  Nation,"  by  the  way,  all 
of  us  were  forced  to  do  a  great  deal  of  research 
work  upon  our  costumes.  This  is  a  good  thing. 
It  gets  one  quickly  into  the  spirit  of  the  drama 
that  is  to  be  played. 


70  —    SCREEN    ACTING    — 

As  I  say,  I  have  always  appreciated  the  ad- 
vantages of  modish  dress  upon  the  screen  even 
though  I  have  had  in  my  eight  years  of  acting 
only  one  "clothes"  part.  By  clothes  part  I 
mean  one  in  which  the  star  dresses  in  modern 
garments  in  every  scene.  I  began  my  career 
as  a  screen  waif  with  the  result  that  the  liter- 
ary men  who  have  to  do  with  the  stories  picked 
for  me,  have  kept  me  at  this  style  of  part. 

There  is  never  a  story  written  in  which  a 
poor,  little  heroine  conquers  against  great  odds 
— usually  after  much  suffering  and  not  a  few 
beatings — but  that  many  friends  rush  to  tell 
me  that  so  and  so  is  "a  regular  Mae  Marsh 
part."  Such  is  the  power  of  association. 

Yet  I  very  much  enjoyed  my  one  dressed-up 
part.  That  was  "The  Cinderella  Man."  I  un- 
derstand that  there  was  great  doubt  expressed 
by  the  scenario  department  that  I  should  be 
able  to  play  such  a  role  for,  since  the  heroine 
was  the  daughter  of  a  wealthy  man,  there  was 
no  occasion  for  her  appearing  in  rags. 

Miss  Margaret  Mayo,  the  well-known  dra- 
matist, who  wrote  "Polly  of  the  Circus," 
"Baby  Mine,"  etc.,  was  here  my  stanch  advo- 
cate. Both  she  and  Mr.  George  Loane  Tucker, 
one  of  our  greatest  directors,  insisted  that  I 
could  do  the  part.  It  was  decided  to  make  the 
trial. 

"Go  to  Lucille,"  suggested  Miss  Mayo,  "ex- 
plain the  story  to  the  designer  and  let  her  show 
you  the  kind  of  costumes  she  would  suggest." 


—    SCREEN    ACTING    —  71 

Expense  was  to  be  no  object.  Mr.  Tucker 
and  I  met  one  afternoon  on  Fifty-seventh 
street  and,  entering  Lucille's,  we  went  into  a 
clothes  conference  with  a  designer.  The  result 
was  a  mild  orgy  of  beautiful  gowns. 

It  was  decided  that  Lucille  should  make  two 
dresses  of  a  particular  design,  one  green  and 
one  gray,  as  the  gown  which  I  was  to  wear  in 
a  great  many  of  the  scenes. 

Showing  that  cost  does  not  indicate  fitness 
I  remember  that  the  gray  dress — which  was 
$100  cheaper  than  the  green — was  the  one 
which  we  decided  to  use.  My  costume  bill  for 
"The  Cinderella  Man"  exceeded  $2,000.  There 
are  many  actresses  who  spend  far  more  than 
that  for  clothes  on  every  picture.  But  com- 
pared with  the  amount  that  I  had  been  spend- 
ing in  my  "poor  girl"  roles  that  $2,000  was  as 
a  mountain  to  a  sand  dune. 

"The  Cinderella  Man"  was  a  great  success 
and  we  were  happy;  particularly  Miss  Mayo 
and  Mr.  Tucker,  who  had  never  doubted  that 
I  could  do  a  dressed-up  part. 

The  matter  of  costumes,  then,  is  one  of  the 
important  things  that  the  beginner  must  con- 
sider. On  the  screen  clothes  may  be  said  to 
talk ;  even  to  act.  The  male  artists,  I  am  sure, 
also  realize  this.  But  the  actress,  particularly, 
must  always  dress  in  a  manner  to  get  the  maxi- 
mum of  benefit  from  her  clothes  whether  they 
be  cheap  or  expensive. 


72  —    SCREEN    ACTING    — 

In  "The  Birth  of  a  Nation"  during  the  fa- 
mous cliff  scene  I  experimented  with  a  half 
dozen  dresses  until  I  hit  upon  one  whose  plain- 
ness was  a  guarantee  that  it  would  not  divert 
from  my  expression  in  that  which  was  a  very 
vital  moment. 


CHAPTER  VII 

Camera- consciousness  and  a  way  to  cure  it — Why  it  is 

fatal  to  imitate — Some  scenes 

in  "Intolerance." 

THE  SEVERAL  qualities  most  likely  to  succeed 
upon  the  screen  having  been  discussed,  and  the 
importance  of  knowing  the  story,  make-up  and 
costuming  having  been  established,  my  candi- 
date is  now  ready  to  go  before  the  camera. 

All  that  has  been  done  before  is  but  to  build 
up  to  this  vital  moment.  The  camera  tells  at 
once  and  usually  in  no  uncertain  terms  whether 
one  is  possessed  of  star  possibilities. 

It  is  a  sort  of  court  from  which  there  is  no 
appeal.  For  that  reason  everv  exoression, 
every  movement,  every  feeling  and,  I  verily  be- 
lieve, every  thought  are  important  once  the 
camera  has  begun  to  turn. 

Now  the  actress  or  actor  is  standing  entirely 
upon  her  or  his  own  feet.  Previously  they 
have  had  the  benefit  of  all  the  advice  and  help 
that  the  many  departments  of  a  studio  could 
proffer.  In  a  word  they  have  been  able  to 

73 


74  —    SCREEN    ACTING    — 

lean  upon  someone  else  and  to  correct  mis- 
takes at  leisure. 

It  is  different  before  the  camera.  The  be- 
ginner will  at  once  feel  very  much  alone  and 
terribly  conspicuous.  This  tends  toward  self- 
consciousness,  or  camera-consciousness,  which 
must  be  immediately  overcome  or  success  is 
impossible.  Camera-consciousness  is  the  bane 
of  the  beginner.  I  think  most  of  us  have  suf- 
fered more  or  less  from  it.  I  have  known 
actresses  who  possessed  it  to  such  a  degree 
that,  finding  they  could  not  rid  themselves  of 
it,  they  left  the  screen.  By  extreme  good  for- 
tune this  never  happened  to  be  one  of  my  trou- 
bles. 

Self-consciousness  on  the  screen  is  much  the 
same  thing  as  stage  fright  in  the  spoken  drama 
and  proceeds,  I  suppose,  from  the  same  source, 
which  is  the  inability  to  forget  one's  self. 

When  a  dear  friend  of  mine  first  began  play- 
ing small  parts  she  found  that  she  suffered 
from  it.  She  also  saw  that  it  would  certainly 
be  fatal  if  she  didn't  cure  it. 

"For  that  reason,"  she  said  to  herself,  "the 
best  thing  to  do  is  to  think  so  hard  about  the 
part  that  I  am  playing  that  I  won't  have  time 
to  think  of  anything  else." 

She  gave  herself  good  advice.  Anyhow  it 
worked  and  I  am  sure  it  will  be  successful  in 
the  case  of  the  average  beginner.  If  so,  then 
camera-consciousness  will  really  be  a  blessing 
in  disguise,  for  it  will  have  taught  the  actress 


—    SCREEN    ACTING    —  75 

concentration  upon  her  part  and  concentration, 
in  every  fiber  of  one's  being,  I  believe,  is  the  big 
secret  of  screen  success. 

I  remember  the  case  of  one  young  actress 
who  came  to  me  in  tears  saying  that  when  she 
rehearsed  her  part  in  the  privacy  of  her  own 
home,  or  dressing  room,  she  felt  every  inch  of 
it,  but  once  under  the  gaze  of  the  director,  the 
assistant  director,  the  cameraman,  possibly  the 
author  and  perhaps  a  number  of  privileged 
persons  about  the  studio,  she  seemed  to  wilt. 

"Look  at  it  this  way,"  I  advised.  "When 
you  are  acting  the  director  has  his  work  to  do 
and  is  doing  it.  So  has  the  assistant  director. 
Likewise  the  cameraman  and  the  assistant  cam- 
eraman have  their  work  to  do  and  are  doing  it. 
So  are  the  other  actors.  As  for  the  lookers-on, 
request  that  they  leave.  Then  imagine  you  are 
in  a  big  schoolroom  where  everyone  is  busy  at 
his  or  her  lessons.  You  have  your  lesson  to 
get  which  is  concentrating  upon  your  part.  Go 
ahead  with  it." 

It  helped  the  girl  in  question.  She  has  be- 
come a  very  excellent  and  charming  star  and 
while  she  still  prefers  to  work  upon  a  secluded 
stage  she  does  not  find  it  positively  necessary, 
as  do  some  actresses.  In  any  event  there  is  no 
trace  of  camera-consciousness  in  her  acting. 

Camera-consciousness  having  been  elimi- 
nated the  beginner  can  now  throw  himself  or 
herself  entirely  into  the  part  being  played.  By 
throwing  one's  self  into  the  part  I  do  not  mean 


76  —    SCREEN    ACTING    — 

forcing  it.  Nothing  is  quite  so  bad  as  that.  I 
mean  feeling  it.  If  you  do  not  feel  the  particu- 
lar action  being  played  then  the  result  will  cer- 
tainly be  a  lack  of  sincerity.  We  have  already 
decided  that  that  is  fatal. 

Let  me  illustrate : 

While  we  were  playing  "Intolerance,"  one 
cycle  of  which  is  still  being  released  as  "The 
Mother  and  the  Law,"  I  had  to  do  a  scene 
where,  in  the  big  city's  slums,  my  father  dies. 

The  night  before  I  did  this  scene  I  went  to 
the  theater — something,  by  the  way,  I  seldom 
do  when  working — to  see  Marjorie  Rambeau 
in  "Kindling." 

To  my  surprise  and  gratification  she  had  to 
do  a  scene  in  this  play  that  was  somewhat  simi- 
lar to  the  one  that  I  was  scheduled  to  play  in 
"Intolerance."  It  made  a  deep  impression 
upon  me. 

As  a  consequence,  the  next  day  before  the 
camera  in  the  scene  depicting  my  sorrow  and 
misery  at  the  death  of  my  father,  I  began  to 
cry  with  the  memory  of  Marjorie  Rambeau's 
part  uppermost  in  my  mind.  I  thought,  how- 
ever, that  it  had  been  done  quite  well  and  was 
anxious  to  see  it  on  the  screen. 

I  was  in  for  very  much  of  a  surprise.  A 
few  of  us  gathered  in  the  projection  room  and 
the  camera  began  humming.  I  saw  myself 
enter  with  a  fair  semblance  of  misery.  But 
there  was  something  about  it  that  was  not  con- 
vincing. 


."S 


I 


—    SCREEN    ACTING    —  79 

Mr.  Griffith,  who  was  closely  studying  the 
action,  finally  turned  in  his  seat  and  said : 

"I  don't  know  what  you  were  thinking  about 
when  you  did  that,  but  it  is  evident  that  it  was 
not  about  the  death  of  your  father." 

"That  is  true,"  I  said.  I  did  not  admit  what 
I  was  thinking  about. 

We  began  immediately  upon  the  scene  again. 
This  time  I  thought  of  the  death  of  my  own 
father  and  the  big  tragedy  to  our  little  home, 
then  in  Texas.  I  could  recall  the  deep  sorrow 
of  my  mother,  my  sisters,  my  brother  and  my- 
self. 

This  scene  is  said  to  be  one  of  the  most  ef- 
fective in  "The  Mother  and  the  Law." 

The  beginner  may  learn  from  that  that  it 
never  pays  to  imitate  anyone  else's  interpre- 
tation of  any  emotion.  Each  of  us  when  we 
are  pleased,  injured,  or  affected  in  any  way 
have  our  own  way  of  showing  our  feelings. 
This  is  one  thing  that  is  our  very  own. 

When  before  the  camera,  therefore,  we 
must  remember  that  when  we  feel  great  sorrow 
the  audience  wants  to  see  our  own  sorrow  and 
not  an  imitation  of  Miss  Blanche  Sweet's  or 
Mme.  Nazimova's.  We  must  feel  our  own 
part  and  take  heed  of  my  favorite  screen 
maxim,  which  is  that  thoughts  do  register. 

It  is  true  that  we  have  good  and  bad  days 
before  the  camera.  There  are  times  when  to 
feel  and  to  act  are  the  easiest  things  imaginable 
and  other  occasions  when  it  seems  impossible 


80  —    SCREEN    ACTING    — 

to  catch  the  spirit  that  we  know  is  necessary. 
In  this  we  are  more  fortunate  than  our  broth- 
ers upon  the  spoken  stage,  for  we  can  do  it 
over  again. 

It  is  also  very  often  true  that  even  when  we 
are  entirely  in  the  spirit  of  our  part,  and  be- 
lieve we  have  done  a  good  day's  work,  that 
there  will  be  some  mechanical  defect  in  the 
scenes  taken  which  makes  it  necessary  to  do 
them  over,  possibly  when  we  feel  least  like 
so  doing. 

In  this  event  it  is  a  good  thing  to  remem- 
ber that  it  doesn't  pay  to  cry  over  spilt  milk. 
We  must  learn  to  take  the  bitter  with  the 
sweet.  Fortunately  the  mechanics  of  picture 
taking  are  constantly  improving. 

The  hardest  dramatic  work  I  ever  did  was 
in  the  courtroom  scenes  in  "Intolerance."  We 
retook  these  scenes  on  four  different  occa- 
sions. Each  time  I  gave  to  the  limit  of  my 
vitality  and  ability.  I  put  everything  into  my 
portrayal  that  was  in  me.  It  certainly  paid. 
Parts  of  each  of  the  four  takes — some  of  them 
done  at  two  weeks'  intervals — were  assembled 
to  make  up  those  scenes  which  you,  as  the  audi- 
ence, finally  beheld  upon  the  screen. 

Therefore,  when  first  going  before  a  camera 
it  is  well  to  resolve  to  put  as  much  into  one's 
performance  as  possible.  We  cannot  too 
greatly  concentrate  upon  our  parts.  If  we  do 
not  feel  them  we  can  be  very  sure  they  will  not 
convince  our  audiences. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

Over-acting  and  a  horrible   example — the  value  of 

repression  and  emphasis — How  we 

act  with  the  body. 

GOOD  SCREEN  acting  consists  of  the  ability  to 
accurately  portray  a  state  of  mind. 

That  sounds  simple,  yet  how  often  upon  the 
screen  have  you  seen  an  important  part  played 
in  a  manner  that  made  you,  yourself,  feel  that 
you  were  passing  through  the  experiences  be- 
ing unfolded  in  the  plot.  I  imagine  not  often. 

If  a  part  is  under-played  or,  worse,  over- 
played— for  there  is  nothing  so  depressing  as 
a  screen  actress  run  amuck  in  a  flood  of  sundry 
emotions — it  exerts  a  definite  influence  upon 
you,  the  audience. 

You  begin  to  lose  sympathy  with  the  char- 
acter itself.  You  are  interested  or  irritated  by 
the  mannerisms — often  hardly  less  than  gym- 
nastics— of  the  actor  or  actress.  You  never 
identify  such  an  actor  or  actress  with  the  part 
they  are  playing  for  the  very  good  reason  that 
they  are  not  playing  the  part.  They  are  play- 
ing their  idea  of  acting  at  a  part. 

81 


82  —    SCREEN    ACTING    — 

In  any  event  your  interest  in  the  story  crum- 
bles. What  the  author  intended  as  a  subtle 
character  development  flattens  out.  An  inge- 
nious plot  is  ruined  by  its  treatment.  You  in- 
dex that  particular  evening  as  among  those 
wasted.  I  know.  I  have  done  the  same. 

For  those  who  would  like  to  take  up  the 
screen  as  a  career,  however,  such  an  evening 
may  prove  very  profitable.  For  it  is  the  learn- 
ing what  not  to  do  that  is  important.  There 
never  was  a  character  portrayal  done  upon  the 
screen  that  could  not  have  been  spoiled  without 
this  knowledge. 

I  have  in  mind  a  photodrama  of  1920  that 
because  of  the  excellence  of  its  plot  gained 
quite  a  success.  But  for  me  it  was  ruined  by 
the  ridiculous  overacting  of  the  heroine. 

She  had  beautiful  dark  eyes  and  seemed  to 
think — it  was  a  melodrama — that  the  proper 
way  to  display  screen  talent  was  to  dilate  and 
roll  those  eyes  as  though  she  were  constantly 
in  terror. 

She  had  added  to  that  trick  one  of  dropping 
her  jaw  which  I  understood  to  be  her  idea  of 
the  way  to  register  astonishment.  I  cannot 
begin  to  describe  the  effect  upon  me  of  those 
horrified  eyes  and  open  mouth.  At  the  end  of 
six  reels  I  felt  like  screaming.  There  was  no 
time  when  I  should  have  been  surprised  had 
she  wiggled  her  ears. 

Either  she  was  unfortunate  in  her  choice  of 
a  director  or  he,  poor  fellow,  was  powerless  to 


—    SCREEN    ACTING    —  83 

stop  her  once  she  had  decided  upon  her  pro- 
gram of  mouth  and  eyes. 

One  of  the  first  things  that  a  screen  actress 
must  learn  is  the  value  of  emphasis.  In  the 
case  that  I  have  cited  above  the  actress  threw 
herself  emotionally  (?)  so  far  beyond  the 
mark  in  little  moments  that  when  a  big  situa- 
tion in  the  development  of  the  plot  occurred 
she  had  nothing  left.  The  impression  conse- 
quently was  one  of  a  strained  sameness.  Than 
that  there  is  no  quicker  way  to  wear  out  one's 
audience.  It  is  like  shouting  at  one  who  has 
sat  down  for  a  quiet  chat.  The  shout  should 
be  used  at  no  distance  less  than  a  city  block. 

No  screen  actress  makes  a  shrewder  use  of 
emphasis  than  Norma  Talmadge.  She  seems 
invariablv  to  hold  much  in  reserve  with  the  re- 

* 

suit  that  when  she  does  let  go  in  a  big  emo- 
tional scene  the  effect  is  brought  home  to  the 
audience  with  telling  force.  There  are  other 
actresses  who  play  with  reserve.  But  it  is  im- 
portant that  with  Miss  Talmadge  her  repres- 
sion seems  ever  illuminated  by  the  fires  of  po- 
tential emotion. 

The  student  of  the  screen  will  do  well  to 
study  these  matters  of  emphasis  and  repres- 
sion. They  are  all  important.  Our  manner 
of  life  itself  is  an  accepted  repression,  outlined 
by  laws  for  the  streets  and  conventions  for  the 
drawing  room.  From  the  screen  viewpoint  re- 
pression is  a  vital  thing,  if  for  no  other  reason 
than  the  fact  that  it  gives  the  audience  a 


84  —    SCREEN    ACTING    — 

breathing  spell.  After  a  breathing  spell  it  is 
the  better  disposed  to  appreciate  emphasis. 

Whenever  I  study  a  scenario  or  story  it  is 
with  an  eyev  for  the  contrast  of  moods  and  the 
situations  that  call  for  emotional  emphasis.  I 
plan  in  advance  of  the  actual  camera  work  the 
pace  at  which  I  will  play  various  stages  in  the 
development  of  the  story.  By  shutting  my  eyes 
I  can  almost  see  how  the  part  will  look  upon 
the  screen.  If  there  is  a  sufficient  contrast  of 
moods  and  opportunity  for  emphasis  I  feel  that 
I  shall,  at  least,  be  able  to  do  all  within  my 
power  to  make  the  story  a  success. 

The  physical  strain  before  a  camera  is  a  pe- 
culiar thing.  At  no  time  is  the  motion  picture 
actress  or  actor  called  upon  for  a  sustained 
performance  such  as  is  true  on  the  spoken 
stage.  For  that  reason  we  should  theoreti- 
cally be  in  condition  to  put  forth  our  very  best 
efforts  on  each  of  the  short  scenes  or  "shots" 
— averaging  not  over  two  minutes  in  photo- 
graphing— that  we  are  called  upon  to  do.  The 
ordinary  director  is  well  satisfied  if  he  aver- 
ages twenty  "shots"  a  day  during  production. 

But  here,  I  should  say,  appearances  are  de- 
ceiving. Genius  has  been  described  as  the 
ability  to  resume  a  mood.  In  the  case  of  mo- 
tion pictures  it  is  necessary  that  a  mood  be  re- 
sumed not  once  or  twice,  but  possibly  twenty 
times  during  a  day. 

This  is  no  less  important  than  it  is  at  first 
difficult.  There  may  be  an  hour  or  two  hours' 


Nortna  Talmadge  whose  acting  is  notable  for  its 
admirable  repression. 


—    SCREEN    ACTING  87 

interval  between  scenes — often  longer  than 
that — and  picking  up  the  thread  of  the  story 
where  it  was  dropped,  the  actress  must  resume 
the  mood  of  her  characterization. 

I  can  suggest  no  better  aid  to  this  undertak- 
ing than  retiring  to  one's  dressing  room  and  re- 
maining quiet.  Absolute  quiet  is  an  excellent 
thing  for  the  actress  during  the  working  day. 
It  gives  her  a  rest  from  the  turmoil  of  the 
studio  set.  It  provides  her  a  chance  to  do  a 
little  mental  bookkeeping  on  the  part  she  is 
playing.  I  have  found  it  a  great  help. 

This  ability  to  resume  a  mood,  however, 
soon  becomes  something  that  is  subconsciously 
accomplished  and  for  that  reason  need  not  be 
too  much  worried  over  by  the  beginner. 

There  is  one  quality  on  the  screen  that  the 
audience  always  likes.  That  is  vivacity,  and 
by  vivacity  I  mean  both  of  the  face  and  the 
body. 

Vivacity  in  this  respect  is  a  lively  and  likable 
sort  of  animation  which  goes  a  long  way 
toward  establishing  that  mercurial  quality 
which  is  known  as  "screen  personality." 

I  have  never  heard  anyone  give  a  very  good 
definition  of  "screen  personality."  The  most 
that  can  be  said  is  that  some  seem  to  have  it 
and  some  don't.  Certain  it  is  that  it  is  valuable 
quality,  for  it  will  not  stay  hidden. 

In  the  news  weeklies  that  are  so  popular  on 
the  screen  I  can,  in  a  group  of  men  or  women, 


88  SCREEN    ACTING 

almost  instantly  pick  those  persons  who  have 
screen  personality.  It  makes  them  stand  out 
sharply  in  contrast  to  their  companions.  Ex- 
President  Wilson,  for  instance,  has  screen  per- 
sonality while  President  Harding,  I  am  cer- 
tain, will  make  a  better  President  than  he 
would  an  actor. 

The  movement  of  the  body  contributes  to 
this  sought  after  animation.  The  body  is  al- 
most the  equal  of  the  face  in  expression  and 
the  way  to  talk  and  use  the  hands  and  feet  are 
things  that  must  be  sedulously  studied. 

Many  stage  directors  have  advised  famous 
actresses  to  "learn  how  to  walk"  and  before  a 
camera  one  not  only  has  to  learn  how  to  walk 
but  how  to  walk  in  many  different  ways. 

We  would  not,  for  example,  expect  a  little 
girl  on  New  York's  East  Side  to  employ  the 
same  body  carriage  as  a  society  girl  walking 
down  Fifth  avenue.  There  seem  to  be  so  many 
schools  of  walking! 

Thus  in  going  over  a  part  it  is  of  the  utmost 
importance  that  we  decide  upon  the  way  our 
heroine  is  going  to  carry  herself  and  then 
throw  our  body,  as  well  as  our  thoughts  and 
expression,  into  our  role.  I  have  often  used 
this  matter  of  walking — I  was  about  to  say  art 
of  walking — to  very  good  effect.  I  should  ad- 
vise the  beginner  to  observe  the  many  different 


—    SCREEN    ACTING    —          89 

ways  in  which  various  persons  accomplish  ex- 
pression through  the  movement  of  the  body. 

It  was  in  the  early  days.  It  was  in  Yonkers. 
We  were  making  "The  Escape."  It  was  a 
street  scene  and  we  were  working  with  a  con- 
cealed camera.  Mr.  Donald  Crisp  was  playing 
the  brutal  husband.  He  drew  back  his  fist  to 
strike  me.  I  was  the  forlorn  wife. 

"If  yu'  touch  that  lady  I'll  knock  yer  block 
off,"  said  a  threatening  voice. 

It  was  a  young  Yonkers  bravo.  Absorbed 
in  the  scene  he  had  forgotten  that  it  was  acting, 
particularly  with  the  camera  concealed. 

I  often  think  of  that  incident  when  at  a  pic- 
ture play  I  hear  someone  say:  "People  don't 
act  like  that  in  real  life." 


90  —    SCREEN    ACTING    — 


If  I  were  a  director  there  is  nothing  I  should 
rank  as  more  important  than  rehearsals.  I  do 
not  mean  merely  running  over  the  scene  before 
it  is  filmed.  All  directors  do  that.  The  ideal 
rehearsal  is  one  which  calls  together  the  lead- 
ing parts  perhaps  a  week  before  production 
and  meticulously  works  out  every  vital  scene 
in  the  story. 

No  director  of  the  spoken  stage  would 
think  of  producing  a  play  without  doing  this. 
Yet  in  motion  pictures  a  production  that  may 
cost  twenty  times  as  much  as  the  average 
spoken  drama  is  often  put  on  with  twenty 
times  less  of  care  in  rehearsal.  It  is  illogical 
and  costly. 

Working  with  the  director  of  the  type  who 
leaves  everything  until  the  last  minute  the 
actor  or  actress  feels  a  strain  that  takes  away 
from  the  performance  rendered.  On  the  other 
hand  where  painstaking  rehearsal  is  practiced 
the  actor  acquires  a  poise  and  deftness  of 
touch  that  justify  the  preliminary  prepara- 
tion, say  nothing  of  the  labor  spared  in  editing. 


CHAPTER  IX 

Long  shots,   intermediates  and   close-ups — "Hogging 

the  camera"  and  ingenious  leading  men — 

Keeping  one's  poise  under  fire. 

WHILE  THE  actress  will  exert  herself  in 
every  "shot"  or  "take" — as  the  separate  ex- 
posures of  a  scene  are  called — she  comes  to 
know  that  the  result  of  her  acting  upon  the 
screen  is  greatly  influenced  by  the  distance 
from  the  camera  that  she  has  worked. 

There  are,  for  our  present  purposes,  three 
different  distances  which  we  work  from  the 
camera.  There  is  the  long  shot,  the  interme- 
diate and  the  close-up  or  insert.  With  the  gra- 
dations of  these  we  need  not  now  concern  our- 
selves. 

The  long  shot  is  usually  taken  to  establish 
the  atmosphere  and  setting  of  a  scene.  In  this 
the  actress  finds  herself  ordinarily  so  far  from 
the  camera  that  her  facial  expression  registers 
indifferently.  For  that  reason  the  body  move- 
ment, with  which  she  is  playing  a  character, 
substitutes  for  facial  expression.  She  is  known 

91 


92  —    SCREEN    ACTING    — 

to  the  audience  by  her  costume  and  carriage 
and  makes  her  appeal  largely  through  these. 

Most  of  the  dramatic  action  is  now  played 
at  three-quarters  length ;  that  is  from  the  face 
to  the  knees.  As  we  weave  in  and  out  of  a 
scene,  very  often  the  entire  body  is  shown  and 
the  feet  have  their  opportunity  for  expression 
— they  assuredly  act ! — but  the  majority  of  the 
intermediate  shots  through  which  the  dramatic 
action  is  conducted  cut  off  the  lower  part  of 
the  body. 

Here,  in  brief,  is  the  combination  of  facial 
expression  and  bodily  movement  that  estab- 
lishes the  actress.  It  will  be  through  the  inter- 
mediate shots  that  my  candidate  will  make  or 
break.  All  our  preparation  for  a  part  and  our 
fitness  for  it  are  here  brought  to  the  test. 

An  important  item  in  this  phase  of  screen 
acting  is  the  effect  that  those  playing  opposite 
will  exert  upon  one.  The  good  actor  or  actress 
helps  one.  Things  seem  to  swim  along.  Work 
becomes  a  pleasure! 

But  very  often  the  actress  will  find  that  she 
is  forced  to  work  opposite  other  actresses  or 
actors  whose  style  is  disagreeable.  If  they  are 
too  loud  or  too  full  of  antics  it  has  the  effect 
of  taking  your  mind  off  your  work — if  you  let 
it!  In  such  a  case  very  often  the  director 
will  observe  the  difficulty  and  a  word  of  cau- 
tion spoken  in  private  to  the  offending  actor  or 
actress  will  improve  conditions. 


—    SCREEN    ACTING    —  93 

But  sometimes  the  director  is  not  observing 
and  you  are  forced  to  make  the  best  of  condi- 
tions. I  recall  one  rather  well-known  actor 
who,  to  use  a  frank  expression,  "spits  as  he 
talks."  If  I  should  ever  be  compelled  to  play 
opposite  him  again  I  should  prepare  myself 
either  with  an  umbrella  or  a  bathing  suit.  I 
think  it  was  only  his  total  unconsciousness  of 
this  habit  that  made  it  possible  for  me  to  con- 
tinue. 

We  women  are  told  that  we  are  very  vain. 
Perhaps  we  are.  But  if  my  experience  with 
male  actors  may  be  taken  as  a  criterion  I  should 
say  that  vanity  has  been  pretty  well  distributed 
throughout  the  world. 

With  a  few  notable  exceptions,  I  make  bold 
to  affirm  that  the  leading  man  counts  that  day 
lost  when  he  has  not  stolen  the  camera  from 
the  star  (poor  girl!)  not  once  but  several  times. 
In  the  profession  we  call  this  "hogging  the 
camera." 

The  tricks  that  some  of  these  amiable  gen- 
tlemen will  play  to  keep  themselves  in  the  im- 
mediate center  of  the  foreground  deserve 
nothing  less  than  a  volume.  This  leads  to  many 
amusing  experiences. 

I  remember  one  leading  man  who  had  a  habit 
of  falling  back  from  the  camera  during  the 
progress  of  a  scene.  The  result  of  this,  of 
course,  was  to  turn  me  toward  him,  leaving 
my  back  exposed  to  the  camera.  He  was  very 


94  —    SCREEN    ACTING    — 

ingenuous.  I  thought,  at  first,  the  habit  was 
unintentional. 

But  as  work  upon  our  play  progressed  he 
repeated  this  maneuver  often  enough  to  con- 
vince me  that  I  was  dealing  with  a  rather 
clever  artist  in  his  way.  I  began  to  anticipate 
him.  When  he  started  to  drop  away  from  the 
camera,  instead  of  turning  toward  him,  as  I 
had  previously  done,  I  stood  still  and  practiced 
talking  over  my  shoulder. 

This  had  the  value,  at  least,  of  showing  my 
face  and  not  my  back  to  the  audience.  In  addi- 
tion it  gave  me  an  unequal  prominence  in  the 
picture,  since  he  was  standing  three  or  four 
feet  behind  me.  Realizing  his  disadvantage  he 
quickly  resumed  a  position  beside  me  and 
thereafter  abandoned  his  little  trick. 

Since  that  time,  however,  I  have  seen  him 
in  other  plays  and  he  is  quite  as  original  as 
ever. 

I  might  go  on  indefinitely  with  such  in- 
stances. Enough  that  the  artist  must  be  on 
her  guard  for  it  seems  to  be  acting-nature  to 
want  to  "hog  the  camera."  But  as  the  stars 
and  directors  are  aware  of  this  tendency  its 
accomplishment  has  become  more  difficult. 

It  is  particularly  trying,  too,  to  play  opposite 
one  of  your  own  sex  who  insists  upon  over- 
acting. This  is  a  common  case.  This  kind  of 
actress  generally  realizes  that  she  has  but  a 
few  important  moments  before  the  camera  and 
is  determined  to  make  the  best  of  them  even  if 


Q 

tt: 


"2 
5 


—    SCREEN    ACTING    —  97 

she  has  to  "act  the  star  off  the  set."  I  have 
actually  felt  sometimes  as  though  I  were  being 
pushed  from  the  stage  by  some  actress,  who, 
without  any  particular  reason,  has  come  in  like 
a  whirlwind. 

The  beginner  will  find  himself  best  off  if  he 
does  not  let  the  style  of  those  playing  opposite 
him  affect  him  too  much.  If  the  style  is  good 
take  advantage  of  it.  It  will  be  real  help.  If 
it  is  bad  one  should  the  more  concentrate  upon 
his  part  and  thus  maintain  his  own  poise  under 
diffculties. 

If  in  these  important  intermediate  shots 
where  the  most  of  the  dramatic  action  is  sus- 
tained we  remember  the  various  points  that  we 
have  discussed  we  should  come  off  acceptably. 

The  silent  drama  is  silent  only  in  its  com- 
pleted product.  Before  the  camera  lines  are 
spoken  and  it  is  of  utmost  importance  that 
they  be  pronounced  clearly  and  with  feeling. 

In  spoken  sub-titles  that  are  expressively 
mouthed  and  well-timed  in  the  cutting,  the  sub- 
title seems  to  blend  in  with  the  voice — though 
it  be  unheard — of  the  speaker,  particularly  so 
to  the  spectator  who  is  clever  at  lip-reading. 

While  it  is  not  necessary  to  memorize  a  great 
number  of  lines,  as  on  the  spoken  stage,  it  is 
necessary  that  those  lines  which  are  read  be 
given  with  the  correct  shade  of  feeling,  just  as 
they  should  be  on  the  dramatic  stage. 

Lines  are  particularly  important  to  many 
persons  who  show  a  maximum  of  expression 


98  —    SCREEN    ACTING    — 

while  speaking.  Here  the  silent  voice  is  a  gen- 
uine asset. 

Most  close-ups,  or  inserts,  as  we  call  them, 
are  of  the  face  alone.  Sometimes  there  may 
be  a  close-up  of  a  hand,  a  foot,  etc.,  but  the 
most  acceptable  style  of  direction  these  days 
seems  to  be  not  to  overdo  in  this  respect. 

In  the  close-up  the  face  of  the  actress  is 
usually  about  24  inches  from  the  camera. 
Every  line  of  her  face,  every  thought,  indeed, 
her  very  soul,  will  now  be  more  or  less  regis- 
tered. Nothing,  in  the  whole  range  of  screen 
acting,  is  more  effective  than  the  close-up. 

The  insert  is  always  to  depict  a  particular 
emotion.  In  a  single  scene,  in  the  intermediate 
shots,  we  have  perhaps  expressed  several  de- 
grees of  feeling  but  in  the  insert  it  is  a  matter 
of  one  emotion  at  a  time. 

Here  we  are  not  aided  by  the  action  or  ex- 
pression of  any  brother  artist.  It  is  entirely 
a  matter  of  imagination  or  feeling.  The  lens 
of  the  camera,  like  the  eye  of  a  Cyclops,  is 
staring  sheerly  at  us  and  it  is  not  necessary  to 
feel  its  breath  to  believe  that  it  is  a  living  thing. 

When  called  upon  for  an  insert  we  know 
precisely  the  emotion  that  we  are  supposed  to 
express  and  will  bend  every  effort  to  concen- 
trate upon  it. 

To  begin  with  there  are  two  important 
things  to  remember  in  the  insert.  One  is  that 
the  make  up  should  be  very  much  lighter  than 


—    SCREEN    ACTING    —  99 

in  the  long  or  intermediate  shots;  the  other, 
that  the  action  will  be  slower. 

The  reasons  are  fairly  obvious.  If  the  same 
make  up  that  is  used  in  the  dramatic  action  is 
continued  it  becomes  immediately  too  con- 
spicuous. Slower  action  is  necessary  because 
at  the  distance  of  two  feet  the  camera  is  lim- 
ited in  the  speed  of  movement  that  it  can  faith- 
fully record. 

In  the  insert  we  are  ever  reminded  of  the 
value  of  repression.  The  mere  expression  of 
the  eyes  may  be  all  that  is  necessary  to  convey 
to  the  audience  the  emotion  of  the  player.  The 
truth  is  that  the  effectiveness  of  the  close-up 
seems  to  be  in  inverse  proportion  to  the  amount 
of  facial  action  in  it. 

When  we  behold  an  insert  in  which  there  is 
much  grimacing  and  contortion  of  the  face  we 
realize  that  there  is  no  real  depth  of  feeling. 
It  is  playing  at  feeling. 

On  the  other  hand  I  have  seen  vital  emotion 
so  delicately  expressed  in  the  insert  that  its 
effect  was  haunting  and  beautiful.  Observe 
in  "Broken  Blossoms"  and  "Way  Down  East" 
the  close-ups  of  Lillian  Gish. 

Much  as  the  good  old  "back  spot"  is  popular 
among  the  fluffy  bonds,  so  is  the  insert  wel- 
comed by  all  screen  actresses.  We  believe  that 
it  shows  us  off  at  our  best  and  brings  us  nearer, 
as  it  were,  to  our  audiences. 

Yet  there  are  some  actresses  favored  over 
others  by  the  insert.  One  whose  features  are 


100  —    SCREEN    ACTING    — 

naturally  coarse,  or  hard,  loses  something 
when  in  close  contact  with  the  camera.  Others, 
like  myself,  who  have  small  features,  and  be- 
lieve, therefore,  that  we  are  often  at  a  disad- 
vantage in  the  long  and  intermediate  shots,  are 
only  too  glad  of  the  opportunity  to  prepare  for 
an  insert. 

Indeed,  our  directors  sometimes  make  a  jest 
of  saying  that  we  seem  to  want  a  drama  of 
inserts.  But  it  is  never  quite  so  bad  as  that. 


CHAPTER  X 

Atmosphere  and  studio  morale — Where  best  work  is 

done — Importance  of  story — Value  of 

'Observation  Tours." 

THE  BEGINNER  has  learned  that  he  or  she 
must  at  all  times  stand  solidly  before  the  cam- 
era upon  his  or  her  own  feet.  I  mean  this  in 
a  metaphorical  sense.  So  much  depends  upon 
courage  and  self-reliance. 

If  it  is  well  not  to  let  the  style  of  supporting 
artists  affect  one,  it  is  equally  well  to  steel  one's 
self  against  the  conditions  under  which  one 
must  sometimes  work. 

The  motion  picture,  after  all,  is  a  commercial 
proposition.  It  is  very  much  so  to  the  pro- 
ducer. For  that  reason  the  beginner  will  find 
that  different  studios  create  and  maintain  their 
own  atmosphere.  Here  one  will  discover  a 
wide  range.  But  since  we  may  consider  our- 
selves called  upon  to  work  now  in  New  York, 
again  in  California,  and  sometimes  in  Florida, 
passing  from  studio  to  studio,  we  shall  win  a 
big  battle  if  at  the  outset  we  will  determine  to 

101 


102  —    SCREEN    ACTING    — 

let  conditions  and  studio  atmosphere  affect  us 
as  little  as  possible. 

It  is  here,  again,  a  case  of  taking  advantage 
of  conditions  if  they  are  good,  and  trying  to 
ignore  them  if  they  are  distasteful. 

I  know  from  experience  that  this  will  be  a 
hard  thing  to  do.  If  the  actress  finds,  in  the 
very  air  of  which  she  breathes,  unpleasantness 
and  intrigue,  she  will  be  normally  inclined  to 
resent  it  hotly.  Yet  such  resentment  only 
takes  away  from  her  acting,  for  it  diverts  her 
mind,  and  she  will  be  the  greater  loser  as  be- 
tween herself  and  her  producer. 

I  have  worked  under  such  profound  systems 
as  considered  studio  spies  and  time  charts  upon 
make  up,  etc.,  as  necessary  to  production.  I 
will  leave  it  to  the  reader  to  decide  how  much 
morale  one  will  find  in  this  sort  of  studio. 

Fortunately  such  a  studio  and  such  a  morale 
are  the  exception.  But,  if  encountered  in  the 
many  vicissitudes  that  an  actress  will  face,  it 
will  be  well  to  make  the  best  of  it ;  to  steel  one's 
nervous  system  against  odds.  Self-reliance  in 
such  a  case  is  no  less  than  golden. 

But  in  the  majority  of  studios  the  manufac- 
ture of  motion  pictures  is  not  put  upon  the 
same  level  as  the  making  of  gloves  or  brooms, 
and  the  beginner  will  find  a  kindly  and  friendly 
atmosphere  both  charming  and  helpful. 

In  those  studios  that  glow  with  a  warm, 
friendly  atmosphere  there  is  always  a  good- 
natured  rivalry  and  spirit  of  fellowship  which 


—    SCREEN    ACTING  103 

is  certain  to  reflect  itself  in  the  finished  pic- 
ture. For  that  reason  it  is  a  genuine  asset. 
Here  hours  are  buoyant  minutes  and  the  actors 
and  directors  find  their  reward  in  the  excel- 
lence of  their  endeavor,  as  well  as  somewhere 
in  Heaven. 

Another  point  that  the  beginner  must  re- 
member is  that  it  is  much  harder  to  make  good 
in  pictures  now  than  it  was  when  I  started. 
That,  of  course,  is  because  of  the  greater  com- 
petition. 

Where  ten  years  ago  there  was  one  boy  or 
girl  ambitious  for  a  screen  career  there  are 
now  a  thousand.  I  often  think  that  the  screen 
has  been  very  kind  to  those  who  had  faith  in 
it  in  its  babyhood.  It  has  brought  to  so  many 
of  these  fame  and  fortune. 

And  sometimes,  when  I  observe  some  fairly 
competent  actress  or  actor  thwarted  in  an  at- 
tempt to  reach  stardom,  I  wonder  if  the  screen, 
after  its  own  fashion,  is  not  asserting  itself  for 
this  lack  of  faith  in  those  early  days. 

At  any  rate  those  who  got  in  first  secured  a 
big  advantage  over  those  who  wondered  if  a 
multiple-reel  picture  could  be  a  success  and 
doubted  it  for,  as  some  said,  "It  would  be  too 
great  a  strain  upon  the  eye." 

But  if  there  are  more  aspirants  now  there 
are  assuredly  more  opportunities  and  my  can- 
didate need  have  no  fear.  Sooner  or  later 
merit  may  be  counted  upon  to  assert  itself.  All 


104  _    SCREEN    ACTING    — 

about  us  in  motion  pictures  we  every  day  per- 
ceive the  truth  of  this. 

It  is  also  true  that  the  screen  is  in  a  state  of 
constant  change.  The  methods  of  acting 
change ;  the  methods  of  direction ;  the  methods 
of  presentation ;  the  methods  of  story  selection 
— all  is  continually  in  flux. 

No  one  knows  what  another  five  years  will 
bring.  But  we  do  know  that  some  of  our 
prized  pictures  of  five  or  more  years  ago  would 
be  instantly  pointed  out  as  old-fashioned  by 
the  average  theater-goer.  That  is  because 
there  is  no  fundamental  point  about  them  that 
has  not  been  somehow  affected  by  time. 

Yet  no  pictures  I  ever  will  make  will  be 
dearer  to  me  than  my  "The  Sands  of  Dee," 
"Apple  Pie  Mary,"  "The  Little  Liar,"  "The 
Escape,"  "Hoodoo  Ann,"  "The  Wharf  Rat," 
etc. 

This  constant  evolution  is  a  matter  to  be 
reckoned  with.  To  stand  still  is  to  be  lost.  We 
must  always  be  pushing  ahead.  For  that  reason 
the  beginner  and  the  star  will  find  it  greatly  to 
their  advantage  to  follow  everything  that  is 
done  on  the  screen. 

In  unexpected  places  we  discover  new  devel- 
opment. Some  unheard-of  player  in  a  boister- 
ous two-reel  comedy  may  disclose  some  little 
trick,  or  expression,  or  bit  of  business,  that 
can  be  easily  interpolated  in  the  more  serious 
drama  with  good  effect.  And  so  on. 


A  pair  excellent  in  its  screenic  balance — Gloria  Swanson 
and  Thomas  Meighan. 


—    SCREEN    ACTING    —         107 

We  must  read  widely.  Try  as  they  may, 
we  can  be  mortally  certain  that  no  scenario 
editors  can  always  supply  the  vehicle  which  we 
feel  is  suitable  for  us  to  play.  There  will  come 
a  time  when  the  actress  will  be  thrown  upon 
her  own  resources,  either  in  the  matter  of  re- 
jection or  selection  of  a  story.  She  must  be 
able  to  put  her  finger  on  what  she  considers  a 
vital  defect  in  some  narrative  that  appeals  to 
the  editor,  or  discover  for  him  good  points  in 
some  other  story  against  which  he  is  preju- 
diced. 

In  any  event  it  will  be  extremely  hazardous 
not  to  participate  as  much  as  possible  in  the 
business  of  deciding  upon  the  play. 

Nothing  is  so  vital  as  a  good  story.  Even 
when  poorly  acted  it  will  be  of  greater  appeal 
than  a  well  played  scenario  of  no  merit.  Mo- 
tion picture  actresses  prosper  almost  in  exact 
ratio  to  the  inherent  worth  of  their  scenarios. 

At  first  this  story  matter  will  not  greatly 
concern  the  tyro.  But  as  the  beginner  finds 
himself  or  herself  slowly  crawling  up  the  lad- 
der to  stardom  he  or  she  will  do  well  to  think 
often  upon  the  type  of  story  to  be  preferred  if 
given  a  chance  to  star. 

By  this  process  the  beginner  will  be  visual- 
izing himself  in  a  role.  Of  a  certain  his  most 
pleasant  visualization  will  be  the  role  in  which 
he  feels  that  he  would  be  at  his  best.  In  such 
a  way,  when  the  chance  comes,  the  star  may 


108  —    SCREEN    ACTING    — 

know  exactly  the  story  he  or  she  will  fit  per- 
fectly. 

Once  the  story  is  decided  upon  there  are 
many  ways  to  bring  to  it  genuine  color.  In 
several  of  my  early  plays  Mr.  Griffith  sent  me 
down  into  the  New  York  slums  on  an  "observa- 
tion tour."  We  all  made  such  tours.  In  "In- 
tolerance" I  visited  sick  and  stricken  mothers 
in  baby  hospitals.  We  spent  a  half-day  once 
in  a  jail  observing  the  characters  therein. 

It  is  always  important  in  acting  to  show  a 
thing  as  it  is,  not  as  we  think  it  ought  to  be, 
and  for  that  reason  these  "observation  tours" 
are  of  great  benefit. 


CHAPTER  XI 

Mr.  Griffith  and  some  of  his  methods  of  direction — 

What  everyone  associated  with  the  screen 

owes  to  him — About  patience. 


I  HAVE  planned  all  along  to  dedicate  this 
chapter  to  Mr.  David  Wark  Griffith,  and  now 
that  I  have  arrived  at  it,  I  find  that  my  pen  is 
unequal  to  the  task.  No  mere  chapter,  nor 
book,  could  undertake  to  tell  Mr.  Griffith's  im- 
portance to  motion  pictures.  The  things  that 
he  has  accomplished  in  the  past  ten  years,  in- 
variably in  the  face  of  great  odds,  almost  pass 
belief. 

For  Mr.  Griffith  I  have  the  strong  and  mixed 
feeling  that  the  child  has  for  its  benefactor,  or 
the  student  for  a  beloved  preceptor.  At  an 
age  now  where  I  can  more  appreciate  the  many 
trials  that  he  endured  I  look  back  fondly  to 
those  days  when  Mary  Pickford,  Blanche 
Sweet,  Lillian  and  Dorothy  Gish,  Robert  Har- 
ron,  and  myself  were  beginning  our  careers 
and  at  the  same  time  founding  what  has  come 
to  be  known  as  the  Griffith  school. 

109 


110  —    SCREEN    ACTING    — 

Nor  were  we  all.  If  the  list  of  actresses, 
actors  and  directors  who  spent  the  formulative 
days  of  their  screen  careers  with  Mr.  Griffith 
were  compiled  I  believe  it  would  be  found  to 
include  many  of  those  who  have  reached  the 
heights.  Mr.  George  Loane  Tucker,  Mr. 
Thomas  Ince,  Mr.  Marshall  Neilan  and  Mr. 
Raoul  Walsh,  to  name  but  four,  were  directors 
that  he  started  on  the  road  to  success. 

Those  were  the  days  of  the  old  Biograph.  I 
am  sure  they  were  of  the  happiest  that  any  of 
us  ever  have  spent.  We  made  two-reelers  then. 
But  we  made  good  two-reelers.  And  the  guid- 
ing genius  of  the  organization  was  Mr.  Griffith, 
tireless  in  his  quest  for  something  new,  some- 
thing big,  something  that  would  expand  and 
elevate  this  new  art  to  which  he  had  pledged 
his  very  soul. 

His  energy  in  those  days,  just  as  it  is  now, 
was  astounding.  Traveling  from  New  York 
to  Los  Angeles  not  long  ago,  I  happened  to 
meet  aboard  the  train  Mr.  Griffith's  private 
secretary. 

"He  seems  never  so  unhappy,"  she  said,  "as 
when  he  is  taking  a  day  off.  He  mopes  around 
the  studio,  hands  in  his  pockets,  with  an  air 
almost  comical.  It  is  as  though  he  were 
silently  resenting  such  foolishness  as  days  off." 

With  this  energy  I  remember  those  early 
days  best  for  Mr.  Griffith's  infinite  patience. 
I  can  truly  say  that  he  had  the  patience  to  make 
us  succeed.  He  never  despaired  no  matter  how 


—    SCREEN    ACTING    —         111 

backward  we  might  be.  He  kept  at  us  con- 
stantly to  bring  out  the  best  that  was  in  us. 
And  even  on  those  extraordinary  occasions 
when  he  seemed  to  lose  patience — usually  when 
we  had  worn  his  nerves  to  a  frazzle — we  al- 
ways had  that  wonderful  feeling  that  he  was 
intensely  loyal  to  all  of  us. 

Those  were  the  days  when  in  addition  to 
schooling  us  to  pictures  Mr.  Griffith  was  con- 
stantly experimenting  with  such  things  as 
close-ups,  fade-outs,  etc.,  that  were  to  revolu- 
tionize the  entire  picture  drama  and  lift  it 
above  the  atmosphere  of  the  nickelodeon. 

For  he  did  lift  it.    And  he  is  still  lifting  it. 

Not  only  those  privileged  few  of  us  who  con- 
sider ourselves  of  the  Griffith  school  are  in- 
debted to  his  genius.  Every  actress,  or  actor, 
or  director,  on  the  screen  today,  who  has  a 
weekly  salary  that  runs  into  three  figures,  can 
thank  Mr.  Griffith  for  making  motion  pictures 
big  and  prosperous  enough  to  so  recompense 
them. 

It  is  not  the  money  that  Mr.  Griffith  has 
made  possible,  but  the  dignity  that  he  put  into 
this  new  art  for  which  we  are  most  beholden 
to  him.  Motion  pictures  were  lightly  held  until 
"The  Birth  of  a  Nation"  shook  an  entire  con- 
tinent and  showed  the  deep  significance  and 
possibilities  of  the  screen  art. 

It  took  the  courage  of  the  born  fighter  and 
worlds  of  confidence  to  put  on  such  a  picture  as 
"The  Birth  of  a  Nation."  For  here  at  one  step 


112  —    SCREEN    ACTING    — 

he  was  doing  the  unheard  of  thing,  the  thing 
almost  everyone  in  the  profession  said  was  im- 
possible. But  it  wasn't  impossible  to  Mr. 
Griffith.  He  did  it. 

He  has  continued  to  do  things  just  as  fine. 
And  if  there  is  one  fault  to  which  the  most  of 
us  are  addicted  it  is  that  we  have  come  to  ex- 
pect more  than  is  humanly  possible  of  this 
patient,  humble  genius. 

In  my  correspondence  I  am  often  asked 
many  questions  regarding  Mr.  Griffith's  man- 
ner of  directing.  Wherein  is  it  different  from 
other  directors  ?  Wherein  does  it  excel  ?  How 
is  it  possible  to  become  associated  with  him? 
Can  he  make  anyone  a  star?  And  so  on. 

These  questions  are,  in  a  way,  difficult  to 
answer.  So  far  as  I  know  Mr.  Griffith  pos- 
sesses no  magic  lamp  by  which  he  makes  a  star 
out  of  anyone.  It  is  not  any  one  quality — 
unless  it  be  patience — but  a  combination  of 
many  that  make  him  the  foremost  of  our 
directors. 

Mr.  Griffith  is  extremely  human.  There  is 
no  unnecessary  flourish,  or  blowing  of  trum- 
pets, about  his  manner  of  direction.  That  has 
the  simplicity  of  true  greatness.  He  never 
lords  it  over  his  players  as  I  have  seen  some 
directors  do.  He  is  kindly,  sympathetic  and 
understanding. 

Perhaps  we  are  about  to  do  a  very  vital 
scene.  Mr.  Griffith  tilts  back  in  his  chair — he 


Mr.  Griffith,  at  the  left,  directing  a  scene  in 
"Intolerance." 


—    SCREEN    ACTING    —         115 

has  a  manner  of  directing  while  seated — and 
may  say  to  the  actress : 

"You  understand  this  situation.  Now  let  us 
see  what  you  would  do  with  it." 

Here  is  a  direct  challenge.  The  actress  is 
put  upon  her  metal.  After  giving  the  matter 
careful  consideration  she  plays  the  scene  after 
her  own  idea.  If  she  does  it  well  no  one  is 
quicker  in  his  praise  than  Mr.  Griffith.  If 
otherwise,  no  one  is  more  kindly  in  pointing 
out  the  flaws. 

In  other  words,  Mr.  Griffith  gives  the  actress 
a  chance.  How  different  from  other  directors 
I  have  seen.  They  might  say  under  the  same 
circumstances : 

"You  understand  this  situation.  Now  here 
is  the  way  to  do  it.  Follow  me  closelly." 

With  that  the  director  will  proceed  to  act 
out  a  scene  according  to  his  notion  of  how  a 
woman  would  conduct  herself  under  given  cir- 
cumstances. The  flaw  in  this  is  obviously  that 
a  man  and  woman  have  a  way  of  acting  differ- 
ently in  the  same  situation  and  Mr.  Griffith,  by 
letting  the  actress  show  what  she  would  do,  is 
shrewd  enough  to  profit  by  Nature.  Our  self- 
sufficient  director,  on  the  other  hand,  wants  us 
to  act  only  as  a  man  would  think  a  woman 
ought  to  act  in  a  given  situation. 

In  this  way  Mr.  Griffith  draws  out  the  best 
that  is  in  his  players,  and,  by  seeming  to  de- 
pend upon  them  to  stand  upon  their  own  feet, 
maintains  an  enthusiasm  among  his  players — 


116  —    SCREEN    ACTING    — 

a  sort  of  big  family  spirit — that  I  never  have 
seen  equalled  in  any  other  studio. 

I  hope  no  one  understands  me  to  say  that  the 
actress,  under  Mr.  Griffith,  has  the  say  of  how 
she  shall  act.  Quite  the  contrary !  No  one  has 
a  way  of  bringing  a  player  more  abruptly  to 
his  or  her  senses  when  he  or  she  is  unquali- 
fiedly in  the  wrong. 

And  no  matter  how  well  we  think  we  have 
outlined  a  scene  Mr.  Griffith  may  entirely 
change  it.  When  he  does  change  it  we  know 
it  is  for  a  reason  other  than  a  fondness  for 
showing  authority.  In  other  words,  he  has 
built  up  among  his  artists  a  great  and  abiding 
faith  in  his  ability  to  do  the  right  thing  at  the 
right  time,  or,  as  importantly,  have  it  done. 

For  another  thing,  Mr.  Griffith  is  big  enough 
not  to  be  small  about  receiving  suggestions. 
His  people  know  that,  with  the  result  that  they 
are  always  thinking  up  something  to  put  into 
a  scene  that  has  not  been  written  there.  He 
listens  attentively  to  these  suggestions,  even 
though  he  knows  in  advance  that  he  probably 
cannot  use  one  in  a  hundred  of  them.  Yet  that 
one  may  be  important  enough  to  balance  the 
patience  expended  in  listening  to  the  other 
ninety-nine. 

To  illustrate: 

In  "The  Birth  of  a  Nation,"  when  the  Cam- 
eron house  was  being  mobbed  by  frenzied 
negroes  and  the  family  had  barricaded  itself 
in  the  cellar  it  was  a  matter  of  some  moment 


—    SCREEN    ACTING    —         117 

how  the  little  sister,  which  part  I  was  for- 
tunate enough  to  play,  would  be  affected. 

I  can  hear  your  average  director : 

"Roll  your  eyes,"  he  would  say.  "Cry!  Drop 
to  your  knees  in  terror." 

In  other  words,  it  would  be  the  same  old 
stuff.  It  is  this  same  old  stuff  that  makes  so 
many  pictures  positively  deadly.  The  least 
that  can  be  said  about  this  conventional  style 
of  doing  things  is  that,  if  it  cannot  be  criticized, 
neither  can  it  be  applauded. 

Mr.  Griffith,  when  we  came  to  the  cellar 
scene,  asked  me  if  there  had  ever  been  a  time 
in  my  life  when  I  had  been  filled  with  terror. 

"Yes,"  I  said. 

"What  did  you  do?"  he  inquired. 

"I  laughed,"  I  answered. 

He  saw  the  point  immediately. 

"Good,"  he  said.    "Let's  try  it." 

It  was  the  hysterical  laugh  of  the  little  girl 
in  the  cellar,  with  the  drunken  mob  raging 
above,  that  was,  I  am  sure,  far  more  effective 
than  rolling  the  eyes  or  weeping  would  have 
been. 

Mr.  Griffith  is  quick  to  appreciate  the  invol- 
untary action  of  one  of  his  actresses  while  a 
scene  is  being  played  or  rehearsed.  As  for 
instance,  in  the  court  room  scene  in  "Intoler- 
ance" ("The  Mother  and  the  Law")  when  I 
began  unconsciously  to  wring  my  handkerchief 
and  press  it  to  my  face. 

"Good,"  he  said,  "keep  it  up!" 


118  —    SCREEN    ACTING    — 

We  are  gratified  when  Mr.  Griffith  accepts 
any  suggestion  for  business,  etc.,  for  we  know 
he  has  a  fine  sense  of  distinction  and,  for  every 
idea  we  give  him,  he  returns  a  hundred. 

This  system  of  suggestion  extends  beyond 
the  players  to  the  mechanical  department  with 
the  result  that  camera  men  and  assistants,  as 
well  as  assistant  directors,  are  always  on  the 
alert  for  something  new.  They  know  their 
suggestion  will  be  given  due  consideration. 
And  for  that  reason  to  Mr.  Griffith  and  his 
staff  we  owe  credit  for  most  of  the  new  inven- 
tions of  telling  a  story  by  pictures.  This  di- 
rector is  as  expert  in  the  mechanics  of  his  art 
as  he  is  bold  in  story  conception. 

We  are  familiar  with  that  smoky,  hazy, 
beautiful  close-up  that  Mr.  "Billy"  Bitzer  in- 
vented by  using  gauze  or  placing  the  camera 
slightly  out  of  focus.  In  some  recent  pictures 
bearing  the  "D.  G."  stamp  I  have  seen  some 
beautiful  blue  values  that  I  have  not  elsewhere 
observed. 

I  find  the  space  allotted  to  this  chapter  begin- 
ning to  dwindle  with  a  sense  of  having  left 
unsaid  so  many  important  and  interesting 
things  about  this  wonderful  director  and  his 
methods.  But  someday  someone  will  set  down 
the  true  estimate  of  the  man  who  has  done  so 
much  for  the  picture  drama.  And  Time  will 
write  it  even  larger. 

Many  of  us  are  deeply  indebted  to  Mr. 
Griffith  and  none  of  us  owe  that  which  can  be 


—    SCREEN    ACTING    —         119 

repaid.  For  he  gave  us  of  his  genius  and  per- 
sonality and  for  these  there  is  no  return  coin. 
Other  directors  I  have  had  of  many  experi- 
ences and  varied  training.  Sometimes  we  have 
succeeded  and  sometimes  we  have  failed,  and 
success  is  made  only  the  more  sweet  by  taste  of 
failure.  But  whether  we  failed  or  succeeded 
we  know,  all  of  us,  that  we  did  our  level  best. 
That  is  something. 


In  the  matter  of  public  acknowledgement 
the  stage  has  never  been  so  kind  to  its  directors 
as  the  screen.  We  think  of  Belasco,  Hopkins, 
Cohan,  not  forgetting  Mr.  Oliver  Morosco, 
and  are  almost  done. 

But  on  the  screen,  to  name  a  few  of  many, 
there  are  the  De  Milles,  with  their  uncanniness 
in  seeming  to  make  the  screen  talk;  Tucker, 
with  his  painstaking  thoroughness  and  ability 
to  limn  the  separate  values  of  a  story ;  Neilan, 
with  his  quality  of  gay,  unexpectedness ;  Tour- 
neur,  with  his  grand  manner  of  picturization ; 
Dwan,  with  his  workman-like  comprehension; 
Fitzmaurice,  with  his  ability  to  make  every 
scene  beautiful  as  a  painting;  Walsh,  with  his 
all-around  cleverness — all  these  are  famous, 
and  there  are  more. 

No  medium  has  equalled  the  screen  in  its 
kindness  to  those  who  do  creditable  work. 
Witness,  for  instance,  our  camera  aristocracy. 


While  I  have  ridden  faster  than  seventy 


120  —    SCREEN    ACTING    — 

miles  an  hour  in  an  automobile,  have  been 
"ducked"  in  lakes,  rivers,  and  oceans — two  of 
them — have  braved  the  wintry  blasts  of  New 
England  until  I  thought  I  was  frozen,  and 
done  scenes  with  tigers,  bears  and  lions,  I  have 
never  feared  greatly  for  my  personal  safety 
nor  need  the  beginner. 

In  really  dangerous  scenes  "doubles" — acro- 
bats, trick  jumpers,  bareback  riders,  animal 
trainers,  etc. — dress  in  feminine  garb  to  re- 
semble the  star,  assume  the  role  being  played 
and  risk  death  or  danger  for  so  many  dollars 
a  day.  The  star's  services  are  too  valuable  to 
the  producer  for  him  to  allow  her  to  take  any 
unnecessary  chances. 


CHAPTER  XII 

Opportunity  for  home  life  of  motion  picture  actress — 

Los  Angeles  and  New  York  as  production 

centers — Screen  morals  and  such. 

IN  THIS  final  chapter  I  shall  try  to  say  some- 
thing about  the  home  life  of  the  motion  picture 
actress.  In  general  actresses  are  of  two 
classes:  those  who  act  both  on  and  off  the 
screen,  and  those  who  confine  their  efforts 
merely  to  the  studio. 

The  first  class  is  not  particularly  open  to 
censure.  For,  unless  I  am  mistaken,  the  public 
desires  to  see  its  actresses  act  on  an  average  of 
sixteen  out  of  twenty-four  hours.  One  friend 
of  mine,  a  star,  stoutly  maintains  that  she 
would  not  go  to  the  theater  in  anything  except 
the  most  up-to-date  garb  and  a  conspicuous 
car!  Why?  Because  otherwise  there  would 
be  sure  to  be  many  who  would  be  disappointed 
in  her!  If  there  is  anything  funny  about  this 
it  is  that  it  is  somewhat  true. 

Actresses,  as  public  favorites,  maintain  a 
peculiar  position,  as  Gil  Bias  points  out,  some- 
where between  royalty  and  the  citizen  without 

121 


122  —    SCREEN    ACTING    — 

being  of  either.  The  public  seems  to  feel  some- 
thing of  pride  when  it  points  out  some  glitter- 
ing dreadnaught  of  an  automobile,  conspicuous 
for  color  or  equipment,  and  says,  "There  goes 
Dolly  Twinkletoes!" 

Personally  I  have  never  had  this  inclination 
to  act  both  "off  and  on."  I  am  afraid,  having 
been  of  a  large  family,  I  should  have  found  it 
extremely  difficult  even  had  I  the  inclination. 
A  number  of  sisters,  and  a  brother  or  two,  are 
a  fine  cure  for  any  tendency  to  undue  im- 
portance. 

And  now  that  I  have  an  especially  charm- 
ing daughter,  and  am  happily  married,  I  must 
really  be  set  down  as  a  conservative.  That 
baby  of  mine!  Being  detained  beyond  hours 
at  the  studio  one  night  I  hurried  home  to  see 
her  before  she  was  tucked  in  bed,  having  no 
time  to  take  off  my  make  up.  She  gazed  at 
me  as  though  she  were  beholding  a  ghost  or  a 
total  stranger! 

A  Chicago  picture  critic  once  gave  me  such 
advice  as  I  think  fit  to  pass  on  to  those  who 
think  of  the  screen  as  a  career.  "Save  the  pen- 
nies," she  said,  "they  can  always  be  spent  if 
you  have  them." 

Yet  how  many,  with  a  splendid  opportunity, 
do  not  save !  Then  some  day  they  wake  up  and 
find  their  golden  chance  gone.  As  an  old 
philosopher  has  pointed  out,  we,  who  find 
money  so  easy  at  times,  must  guard  against  in- 
temperance and  folly. 


—    SCREEN    ACTING    —         123 

But  this  is  not  a  sermon.  We  live  up  in  the 
beautiful  California  mountains.  There,  in  a 
colonial  house  on  a  small  acreage,  with  flower 
and  vegetable  gardens,  Airedales,  chickens,  a 
car,  a  cow,  and  a  cat,  I  have  a  feeling  of  sub- 
stantial worth-while  happiness  and  that  is  the 
kind  that  counts. 

Indeed,  one  of  the  best  things  about  motion 
pictures  is  that  it  permits  of  a  home  life.  The 
actress  in  vaudeville  or  on  tour,  or  even  on 
Broadway  with  the  uncertainty  of  the  length 
of  runs,  never  has  any  surety  where  she  will 
be  on  the  morrow.  We,  in  motion  pictures, 
are  fortunate  enough  to  sign  contracts  that 
usually  call  for  a  year  or  more  work  in  one  city 
and  that  New  York  or  Los  Angeles.  This,  I 
should  say,  is  one  of  the  most  advantageous 
things  about  the  screen  as  contrasted  with  the 
spoken  drama.  There  are  many  others. 

Since  Los  Angeles  and  New  York  are  the 
two  centers  of  the  motion  picture  industry  each 
has  its  staunch  advocates  as  to  suitability,  etc. 
In  any  group  of  actresses  and  actors  this  will 
usually  be  the  topic  of  a  lively  discussion.  Per- 
sonally I  like  Los  Angeles.  At  a  dinner  that  I 
attended  some  time  ago  the  head  of  a  big  dis- 
tributing company,  who  is  interesting  for  his 
shrewd  observations,  said  there  had  never  been 
a  really  great  picture  done  in  New  York  City. 
"For  the  entire  atmosphere  of  life  there,"  he 
continued,  "is  too  superficial." 

I  agree  with  him.    Los  Angeles  is  friendly 


124  —    SCREEN    ACTING    — 

and  natural.  Its  climate  is  only  one  of  its 
many  virtues. 

The  screen  actress  will  be  called  upon  to 
meet  the  people  of  the  press.  Interviews  are 
important.  She  will  find  that  the  number  of 
them  will  usually  be  determined  by  the  degree 
of  success  of  her  newest  screen  play.  As  for 
screen  writers,  one  will  discover  them,  in  the 
majority,  keen,  sympathetic  and  altogether  de- 
lightful. No  one  need  have  the  dread  of  com- 
ing in  contact  with  them  that  I  originally  had ; 
nor  resort  to  the  subterfuges  to  evade  them. 
I  was  very  young  then. 

Public  appearance  is  another  factor  the 
screen  has  to  deal  with  and  sometimes  I  think 
this  is  rather  overdone.  During  the  separate 
campaigns  for  the  sale  of  Liberty  Bonds  all  of 
us  tried  to  do  our  share.  While  I  never  hope 
to  be  able  to  make  a  speech,  I  find  that  the 
anticipation  of  being  expected  to  do  so  fills  me 
with  greater  terror  than  actually  being  called 
upon. 

I  believe  it  is  a  good  idea  for  the  actress  to 
cultivate  some  companion  art.  In  between 
productions,  or  during  an  enforced  vacation, 
she  will  have  something  then  as  an  ofT-set  to 
mere  indolence.  I  have  been  interested  in 
sculpture  for  many  years,  and  I  have  an  ambi- 
tion to  do  something  in  it  that  will  be  of  real 
value.  If  I  don't,  the  ambition  will  have  been 
of  real  value,  for  it  has  assisted  in  providing 


I 


«J 

* 

•5: 


—    SCREEN    ACTING    —         127 

me  with  many  happy  and  instructive  hours. 
That  is  the  main  thing. 

The  study  of  another  art  is  interesting,  too, 
because  we  immediately  perceive  in  its  form 
and  substance  the  truth  of  the  saying  that  all 
arts  are  one.  Sculpture  is  a  matter  of  repres- 
sion and  emphasis  just  as  acting  is.  And  when 
I  am  doing  the  figure  of  my  baby,  or  modeling 
from  life,  I  am  startled  to  find  that  my  errors, 
in  their  way,  are  akin  to  the  errors  of  the  be- 
ginning actress. 

There  may  have  existed  at  one  time  a  silly 
idea  that  actresses  shouldn't  marry;  that  it 
hurt  their  box-office  value,  destroyed  an  illu- 
sion, etc.  As  though  actresses  were  not 
women !  Most  of  my  actress  friends  are  mar- 
ried and  glad  of  it.  Almost  without  exception 
those  who  have  gone  highest  in  the  profession 
are  married.  The  public  has  invariably  been 
pleased  about  it. 

I  should  recommend  any  young  actress  to  a 
suitable  husband.  It  will  give  her  a  better  and 
deeper  insight  into  life  and  broaden  her  sym- 
pathy. There  is  something  a  little  pitiable, 
something  that  doesn't  ring  quite  true,  about 
the  actress  too  ready  to  boast  of  her  star- 
spangled  freedom. 

I  have  often  been  asked  about  the  morals  of 
motion  pictures.  Will  someone  tell  me  why 
we,  all  of  us,  are  so  deeply  concerned  with  our 
neighbor's  morals?  And  when  we  find  them 
not  all  that  could  be  desired  are  we  filled  with 


128  —    SCREEN    ACTING 

sorrow  and  the  wish  to  effect  an  honest  reform, 
or  with  a  sort  of  unholy  joy  and  a  desire  to 
spread  scandal? 

It  has  been  my  observation  that  in  motion 
pictures  a  girl  can  be  as  good  as  she  wants  to 
be.  In  that  way  our  profession  is  identical 
with  others.  It  is  true  that  the  glamour  of  the 
screen  has  attracted  people  who  would  be  unde- 
sirable in  any  business  or  profession.  But  we 
should  recognize  them  as  such  and  never  mis- 
take them  as  representing  the  entire  profes- 
sion. 

The  majority  of  those  who  succeed  in  motion 
pictures  do  so  by  honest  work.  That  means 
long  hours  and  application.  I  doubt  if  the  av- 
erage successful  business  man  puts  in  as  much 
time  or  as  high-tension  effort  as  the  picture 
actress,  actor  or  director  who  gets  somewhere. 
My  friends  are  of  that  kind.  They  are  too 
busy  to  worry  unnecessarily  over  what  the  pub- 
lic may  think  of  motion  picture  morals.  They 
assume  only  to  regulate  their  own  conduct. 

I  have  enjoyed  doing  this  book.  From  time 
to  time  I  have  been  forced  to  drop  my  work 
upon  the  urgent  appeal  of  my  eighteen-months' 
old  daughter.  She  has  gorgeous  blue  eyes  with 
lashes  long  as  twilight  shadows.  Her  cheeks 
are  exquisitely  pink  and  her  little  mouth  is  like 
a  rose-bud  in  spring.  Her  name  is  Mary.  She 
has  brought  me  worlds  of  undreamed  of  hap- 
piness. 


—    SCREEN    ACTING    —          129 

Someday  Mary  may  want  to  go  upon  the 
screen.  Even  now  she  acts  before  the  long 
mirror.  If  she  can,  in  any  way,  secure  her 
mother's  hat  she  gives  a  complete  performance. 
My  blessed  baby! 

When  the  time  has  arrived  for  her  to  start 
upon  her  career  I  shall  place  my  little  book  in 
her  hands  and  say : 

"There  is  the  most  and  the  best  that  I  knew 
about  the  screen  back  in  those  old-fashioned 
days  of  1921." 


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